Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,149

rest of the weed and the cars from the garage; money is tight, but a dilapidated house on the edge of the city doesn’t cost much.”

“What they’re both trying to say in so many words,” Aaron continues, letting his fingers trail up my thigh. “Is that you don’t have to worry about anything tonight.”

I nod, but there’s something strange in my throat, something breaking up the melancholy that’s creeping through me like evening shadows. Happiness? Pretty sure that’s what this thing is. We’re buying Victor’s grandmother’s house? It seems surreal. Also, it seems very Havoc. It’s a very Havoc thing to do.

Once we get to the property, the police pull off at the end of the long drive, leaving us to trundle down it and park by the sagging front steps.

I climb out, slamming the door behind me, and look up at the imposing Gothic Revival structure in front of me. It’s bathed in shadows, its dark windows like the empty eyes of a wicked spirit, haunting this quiet, dusty place on the edge of nowhere. The only reason I actually know what sort of house it is, is because Oscar told us the first time we arrived. Otherwise, like I said, Prescott High and architecture … ehh.

My mind shifts from the image of the soaring three-story house and right back toward Pamela again. Like, I hated the bitch. Like, she killed my sister. Also, she’s dead.

She’s dead.

My mother is dead?

And she killed my sister.

My brain fucking hurts when I try to stop and make sense of it. Maybe some things aren’t meant to be parceled and pulled apart and overly examined? Can I just feel sad about it without understanding why? Can I just mourn for the sake of mourning?

“Bernie.”

The soft sound of Aaron’s voice draws me away from a nightmare and into the impenetrable darkness of the countryside. We’re not ten minutes outside of town, and you literally can’t see your hand in front of your face.

What I can see, however, is Aaron. He’s standing beside me with a candle in his hand, the dancing white glow illuminating all the beautifully masculine lines of his face. He smiles at me and hands it over, taking another one off the hood of the car and lighting that, too.

“Let’s go inside?” he suggests, and I nod, listening to the distant rustle of tree branches and the haunting call of an owl from somewhere beyond the small circle of light cast by the Camaro’s headlights. Hael leaves them on while he and the boys gather up our things, carrying them inside the house for me.

Best part of dating five strong dudes: I don’t have to do any heavy lifting. It’s a tad sexist, I know, but I figure after centuries of patriarchal domination, it’s the least they can do for me.

The steps creak as Aaron and I walk up them, using our candles for light. We could use our phones, but that’s boring as fuck, isn’t it? There’s nothing magical about the glowing face of a Samsung or an iPhone. Technology, in its own way, is sort of tragic. I’d much rather exist in the sorcery of candlelight.

I find that the boys have set up our blankets in the parlor, the room immediately to the left of the front door. It’s the same room where I gussied-up for my wedding. This is the same house where two pedophiles died a much kinder death than they deserved.

Already, the boys are spreading the candles around the room and lighting them, turning the place into a witch’s den where I can nestle with all my dark and dangerous thoughts. There’s a sense of ritual to it, which I so very much need right now. Even if I don’t believe in anything spiritual or religious or magical, it never hurts to carry out a ceremony of sorts, something to mark a special occasion.

And—whether good or bad—this is a very special occasion indeed.

Because it means my list is done.

That fucking list I scrawled on the back of an old envelope in Aaron’s now defunct minivan.

It’s in the pocket of my pink leather Havoc jacket, and even though it weighs less than an ounce, it feels like a thousand pounds, like it’s weighing me down and making my knees buckle.

I end up kneeling in the nest of blankets with Aaron by my side. He takes my candle and sets it aside, watching as I strip off my boots and toss them into the corner. It feels like