Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,161

without seeing results. “Half the parents here are involved in it somehow, so it makes sense.”

“It also means that Maxwell Barrasso is likely to be at Oak Valley Prep on graduation day,” Oscar explains, tapping his long fingers against the side of the table. He exchanges yet another look with Vic as my mind spins through the information.

“Ophelia is planning on coming to my graduation,” Victor continues, and I blink in surprise because I hadn’t heard that yet. “She told me as much on the last phone call we had.”

“This is great,” I say, drawing all of their attention over to me. “If they’re coming here on graduation day, then that’s when we get them. We get them before the graduation ceremony. I don’t know how just yet, but we do.”

“If the raid is being planned for this school,” Oscar continues, pushing his glasses up his nose with his middle finger. “Then there is no way in hell we are going to be able to deal with Maxwell and Ophelia before somebody sees us. And the goal is to remain in front of, rather than behind, bars.”

I ignore his imperious tone. He has a good point, but I feel like this is our best chance.

“Contingency plan, remember? Like the one we used for Mason? If something goes wrong, we have the VGTF as our own, personal backup.” I stand up and start pacing, Cal’s blue eyes watching me as I do. Always watching. A shiver takes over me.

“If they end up in prison, then won’t they just rule from behind-the-scenes? That won’t help us out any at all.” Hael repeats something we’ve already talked about, a worry and a fear that niggle at me every day. “We’ll still have to be careful; we’ll still have to worry.”

And he’s right.

If the GMP maintains their leader—even from inside a prison cell—they might still come after us. After the girls. Motherfucker.

“There is no way in fuck that we are raiding Maxwell’s house.” Oscar spiders his fingers on his knee and taps them against the perfect crease in his suit. “We are not attending one of those awful parties. And we are certainly not performing a coup d'état on the day of a raid. Think up something else.” He snaps this out, but I know it’s not directed at me in particular. He’s just frustrated because Oscar Montauk can always think his way out of a tight spot.

Just … maybe not this time.

“This is good news,” Vic muses slowly, his king voice firmly fixed in place. This is the voice that brooks no argument, that says this conversation is coming to an interlude. Emotions are too high, and we all need more time to think. “Because this means that no matter what, after graduation day, the VGTF will be swarming into the GMP’s ranks. Even if Maxwell is captured, it’ll sow discord. Regardless, this is good for us, a near guarantee at a reprieve.”

He stands up from the table, but I can see in his face that he isn’t happy.

Because I know for a fucking fact that all of that anger he’s carrying inside of him, it has to be unleashed soon. And on someone. And that someone has to be Ophelia fucking Mars.

It just has to be.

Victor takes off for the apartment with his loyal lords—and his queen—following along behind him.

Vera and I hang out together on a weekend where neither of us is busy. We start at her auntie’s place, getting our nails done and gossiping about boys. I might be permanently sealed to five boys through blood, but Vera has many more boyfriends than I do. Sometimes at the same time, sometimes not. Just depends.

“The last two guys I dated were both too bossy,” she tells me as I examine my red nails with the little coffins painted on them. Each coffin has a tiny white letter on the front, spelling out Havoc on both hands. The same silver ring is pierced through the pointer finger on my left hand, and I decide that I like it better there than on my right. “I seriously don’t understand how you put up with it.” She flicks her pale eyes toward the window, her red hair buzzed into a slanted ‘A’ inside of a circle—the symbol for anarchy.

Stacey’s girls were all about that, a wild tumble of femininity and violence and fun. They’re still that way, it seems, as they pass in and out of the apartment like it’s their official meeting place.