Page 162 of Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 5)
Penelope Blackbird gazes over at her sister and then flicks her attention to the group of boys. Somehow, she knows as soon as she sees them that she won’t be around forever and that her sister will need someone on her side if Pen can’t be there to do it. She doesn’t know why she thinks any of those things, but she releases her sister’s hand and backs away, turning to a group of girls near the only nice tree in the front courtyard of the school which is all cement but which is also the only place for them to play.
Pen won’t make it to find her happily ever after, not in this life, but she’s the true protagonist of the story. Even with her voice silenced, she found someone to tell it. And, in her next incarnation, she is going to thrive. The universe demands it.
Bernie frowns at the boys as the wind picks up pieces of her pretty hair and tosses it around her face. She sweeps some of it back, still staring at Victor, and feeling her entire life funnel down into one single chokepoint, one that she only need cross before she can have her happily ever after here, now, today.
Bernadette blinks once, twice, three times.
And then wakes up.The morning of my high school graduation, I wake up early, stretching out on the gigantic bed that I share with five deliciously awful boys and feeling like the whole world is about to crack open and spill beautiful things into my life.
Today is the day of the VGTF’s raid.
I should be nervous as I crawl out of the gray satin sheets that Oscar is so obsessed with that he bought extra sets, just so we could outfit both beds with them. Instead, as I stand in the kitchen barefoot, watching the coffee maker drip-drip-drip and breathing in the earthy caffeinated scent of cheap Prescott beans, I feel rejuvenated.
Excited.
One last chance, one more fight.
“Good morning,” Oscar purrs, padding into the kitchen in his bare inked feet and removing a half-dozen coffee mugs from the cabinet. I’m actually surprised at what a good caretaker he can be, when he chooses to use his powers for good instead of evil.
“Morning,” I say, my breath catching sharply as he steps up behind me, sliding his hands around me until his long fingers find my cunt through the soft cotton of my pajama pants. He teases me with a single finger, playing with the hard nub of my clit and running his tongue up the side of my neck. Touching me. Worshipping me. “Are you excited for today?”
Oscar makes a sound of what’s either complete approval or complete disapproval, nothing in-between, but also impossible to discern. He’s just like that, this tech-obsessed asshole with his iPad for a lover and his kinks and his mastery of knots.
Speaking of kinks, he very calmly and carefully curls his fingers around the front of my throat, continuing to stroke my cunt while he licks up the side of my neck and makes me shiver.
“Am I excited for today?” he repeats, and I can’t tell if his words are simply disdainful or if they’re also cracking with a failure to restrain himself. After a moment, he gives in and shoves my pants down to my knees. “I’m quite happy to be finished at this pompous school.”
That’s what Oscar says right before he drives into me, burying himself deep as I groan, bent over the counter next to the coffee maker. Our fucking is just that—fucking—and it’s short and hot and perfect, and so damn good at calming my nerves that I end up sitting in the living room, drinking my coffee, and smiling like the whole world is waiting with open arms.
One last chance, one more fight.
I keep repeating that to myself, because even if it feels like we’re close to ending this thing, we have to get through the day unscathed. Anything could go wrong here. Even with the VGTF and a supposedly peaceful raid, there are risks. There are always risks. There’s the risk of death—I could lose one or more of my boys. And there’s also the risk of Maxwell and Ophelia escaping to fight another day.
So, as confident as I am in letting Sara Young handle this thing, as sure of it as I am, I also have to maintain my skepticism and play like we might lose.
“Good morning,” Aaron says, appearing with his hair all bed-mussed and adorable. He leans over me and gives me a lasting kiss on the mouth that has my heart pumping and my already sated pussy throbbing in response. Goddamn it, but I already admitted that I was a thirsty bitch, right?
“Morning,” I say as he sits down beside me and across from Oscar, watching as his friend lifts his coffee to his razor-sharp lips. “We should probably get the girls up if I’m going to do their hair.”
