Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,193

encroaching GMP soldiers and now. None of that matters to Ophelia. There’s only one person she ever cared about and that’s herself. She claimed to love me, in some, sick, twisted, perverted way. But it was never real. I know what real love feels and looks like. “A gunshot is like hot fire, like wicked teeth. It burns and it aches, and you’ll never be able to forget the bite.”

I’ve finally reached the fallen log, a big one, covered in a blanket of moss and more of those strange brown mushrooms. If I didn’t know any better, I might think we’d just stumbled into another world. A world of dark faeries and puckish demons.

“Now, come along.” Ophelia lowers the gun just as several men appear in the trees ahead of her. She seems a bit surprised that they’re there, but I’m not.

“Where’s Victor Channing?” one of them asks, but Ophelia just shakes her head and lets out a long, aristocratic sigh.

“I have no idea,” she drawls, gesturing randomly in the direction we started. We must be getting near the edge of Oak Valley Property, where that massive stone wall with its iron top sits, guarding the peasantry away from such a royal estate. If I were in a different situation, I’d scowl and spit. Instead, I watch. I wait. I cannot fuck this up.

Heather swipes blood from her lip and keeps her head down, letting out a small shout of surprise when one of the men grabs her by the arm.

“This is the little sister?” the same man asks while the other two scan the woods with shrewd, battle-hardened eyes.

“This is Bernadette Blackbird’s sister, yes,” Ophelia confirms, and even though she can’t see it, I can. I know what’s going to happen.

Without hesitation, the man lifts his gun to Heather’s head as she screams.

“What are you doing?” Ophelia bites out, alarm coloring her voice. “I need her.”

“And Maxwell needs retribution for James,” the man replies coolly, and those are the last words that ever leave his mouth.

Rising up from behind the tree, I take aim at the gunman’s head and fire. He drops like a boneless sack as Heather tears away from him and starts running. Good girl. Before the other two men can react, I’m shooting at them, too, and there’s blood running thick and hot across the mossy ground.

Ophelia, intelligent monster that she’s always been, snatches up one of the guns and takes off, ducking into the thicket of trees as I turn to go after Heather instead.

It doesn’t matter: I’ll catch Ophelia eventually anyway.

I dart after Heather, easily catching up to her as she stumbles and flees blindly through the trees. When I reach for her arm, she shrieks and spins at me with her fists and legs flailing, trying to fight, to escape, to be as brave as her sister.

“Shh, little girl,” I whisper, cupping the side of her face with a big hand. As soon as she sees me, her small body collapses, and I gather her into my arms, holding her close as she weeps. “It’s alright, Heather, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

I stroke her back in small circles, even as I start walking again.

There’s a lot of blood—some of it on Heather, most of it on me—but there isn’t much to be done about it right now. So I don’t try. I just pet and stroke and calm the child who, by my intense and indestructible bond to Bernadette, is now my daughter. God help her future dates. A small smile lights on my mouth, but it doesn’t last long. Too much urgent business to deal with.

“Can you do something for me?” I ask, adjusting her so that we can look at each other while I talk.

“What?” she asks, face and voice hard like a certain someone I’m all too familiar with. A lesser child would be limp like a rag doll, passed out or broken, crying or screaming. But not this one. Not my child.

“If I put you somewhere and tell you to be very, very quiet, to plug your ears and close your eyes, can you do that for me?”

It takes Heather a moment to answer, but she finally nods, and we continue on toward the edge of the woods, where I can faintly see sunlight trickling into the darkness of the forest. I find a tree with a deep, hollow base and a cluster of verdant ferns around its trunk, and I nestle in the girl to wait.

As I’m