Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,110

when I slammed her head into the bar at her own murder-mystery party? Or shoved the heel of my hand into her nose at the art gallery? I barely got a reaction out of the bitch. She’s fucking insane.

“Do you speak English?” Hael asks, cocking his head to one side. “Or do you need it in French: Tu peux parler avec notre femme. Au passage, va te faire foutre.” Hael smiles tightly and moves away as Trinity murmurs something in response, also in French. That gives him pause, and I see his hands curling into tight fists at his sides.

I decide not to ask for a translation on that one.

I cock a brow.

“Grandpa know you’re not really Samuel’s kid?” I ask, and Trinity gives me a sharp look that very clearly says not too loud, not here. Luckily for her, it doesn’t suit us to give out this secret either. We intend to hold it nice and tight—until the time is right, of course. Obviously, at some point, we’re going to tell the whole motherfucking world.

Just not quite yet.

“Alright,” I continue, because we’re not really here to have any sort of normal conversation. Just extortion and threats today. “Well, the next thing you’re going to do is get Gramps to tell Ophelia that you and Victor are legally married. We know how to get ahold of a very convincing marriage certificate to help the ruse along.”

She just keeps staring at me in that creepy way of hers, the wind rustling her skirt around her pale thighs.

“And how am I supposed to convince him to do that?” she snaps, but I just laugh because that isn’t my fucking problem.

“Look, this benefits you just as much as it does us. Ophelia will rat your ass out if you don’t comply, am I right? You must’ve figured out by now that she’s a vindictive psycho.” I start to turn away, but Trinity makes a hissing sound that stops me in my tracks. Her eyes dart to Oscar as he pauses beside me in a black-on-black-on-black suit, shirt, and tie, like he’s attending another funeral. Might as well be. This is basically the end of everything I’ve ever known. I’m trying to be positive here, but … just look at this place. Look at it. Pompous wealth built on the subjugation and abuse of others. That, and half the rich daddies that send their kids here participate in the GMP’s pedo ring.

I almost gag but manage to keep my reaction schooled to one of mild annoyance.

“I’m your student guide for the day,” Trinity bites out, like a rubber band snapping against my skin. “Follow me and I’ll show you to your … room.” She sneers at us, but I just grin. Leave it to Victor and Oscar to arrange for us to be housed in one of the vacant staff apartments.

Apparently, having proof that two of the schoolboard member’s wives are pedophiles gets us a lot of extra goodies. Also, according to Vic, our contacts seemed relieved at being able to shove us into a forgotten corner away from the other students. So I guess this works for everyone involved.

I wonder what Sara Young thinks about all this? Does she really believe that the six of us just happened to snag half of the twelve scholarship positions given to Prescott High? Nah. She must know my grades—and Hael’s and probably Cal’s—aren’t nearly good enough. But oh well. Not my problem either.

“How long are we to keep up this charade?” Trinity asks as I watch my boys pile duffel bags onto their shoulders and boxes in their arms. I pick up and hold nothing. I’m not dating five muscular men to move shit around. I flip my hair and follow after Trinity, noticing that the few students out at this early hour keep their eyes averted and their chins down.

Good for them. Smart choice. I light a cigarette even as Trinity seethes and her skin ripples with hatred.

“Smoking is a filthy habit,” she tells me, as if she thinks I give a flying fuck.

“Some people might say fucking your half-brother is a filthy habit, but I try not to judge.” I shrug my shoulders as her perfect jaw tenses with rage and she leads us down a narrow path between the student dorms and the staff apartments, taking a door on the left instead of the one on the right. Close enough though. The old buildings are practically within arm’s length of one another.

It takes