Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,19

“Our crew is combing the streets, but there’s no sign of him.”

“I’m working on it now,” Oscar says, his iPad parked his lap. I’m not surprised that he still has it. We’re very careful with what we do and say on our phones, but Oscar is not careful with that damn iPad. It’s the hub of everything we do. Also, I’m pretty sure he’s in love with it. A lesser woman would be jealous. “Tracking his phone, that is.”

Hael brings over the bag with the sodas in it and sets it beside the mountain of pizza boxes. One thing about dating five teenage guys is that they eat and eat and fucking eat. Like, it’s a constant stream of them putting shit in their fucking mouths. That is, except for Oscar. I rarely see him eat anything at all.

And it’s always Cal who eats the most. Cal who always has a snack. Cal who purposely doesn’t eat at school, his lunch tray laden with Pepsi cans and cigarettes so that everyone who attends Prescott will think he’s a monster that feasts only on blood.

“How long will that take?” I ask, clutching my belly as I sink down into a chair at the table. My cramps this time are kicking my fucking ass—almost as bad as the GMP did outside the school. Everything hurts; I could seriously use a hot tub or at the very least, a warm bath.

Oscar lifts his silver eyes to mine, like two full moons in the damaged face of a broken aristocrat.

“About two seconds,” he says, turning the iPad around so I can see the screen. “His phone is about three blocks from the school.”

I flip open the top box, snatch a slice of cheese pizza and fold it into my mouth.

“Let’s go,” I murmur around the slice, shoving up from the chair and heading straight for the pink leather Havoc jacket hanging near the front door. I’m in no shape to go anywhere, bruised up and bleeding between the thighs, but I’d crawl over a sea of broken glass to reach Cal. Cramps? Feds? White supremacist gangs? That shit is nothing.

“They’ll follow us over there,” Vic warns, gesturing with his chin toward the front of the house. “Those cops.”

“Better than the GMP,” I say, clenching my teeth. Who knows how many officers the GMP has in their pocket? And it’s no surprise to me that Neil was one of them. Bet ya Pamela knew all about it, too. “Let’s go find our boy.”

I pause near the front door as my cup quite literally runneth over and my new pj pants turn red with blood at the crotch. Cocksucking motherfucker. Irregular, heavy periods complete with cramps. Just what I need today. Tonight? I’m not even really sure what time is it anymore.

“Take care of that,” Vic tells me with a nod. “And we’ll gear up. I’ll let the crew know to redirect Aaron our way when he gets out.”

He lights up another cigarette as I head back up the stairs, heart racing.

What we’re all thinking, but what nobody is saying, is that it’s weird for Cal’s phone to be so close to the school yet there to be no sign of him.

I killed James Barrasso today.

If the GMP has Cal, there is no way in hell that they’re going to let him go.

If they have him … then he’s already dead.

The screen of Cal’s phone is cracked and covered in blood. As soon as I pick it up and see the last text message that he sent—mare’s nest—I almost lose my shit.

“Bernadette,” Victor says softly, prying the thing from my shaking hand. “Rein in that temper. Use it like a weapon. There is nobody here for you to use it on, so store that shit and save it for later.”

He looks at the phone for a minute, face grim, and then passes it over to Oscar.

“Mare’s nest?” Hael asks, reading over Oscar’s shoulder. “No fucking way.” There’s something strained in his voice that echoes the sick, hollow feeling inside of me. That’s our word, that’s our Havoc cry for help. And none of us got the message because we were either too busy fighting off active shooters or the feds had already taken our phones.

The thought really does fill me with a violent, irrational sort of rage.

Swallowing hard, I choke it down and try to ignore the worsening cramps. It’s bad. So bad that I can already feel my cup leaking again, blood soaking into the