Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,34

him. He strips his hoodie off and then lets it fall to the floor with a wet slap. That’s how soaked in blood it is. Red spatters the walls in tiny droplets.

My skin prickles with recognition as the other boys come up the stairs behind me. A lesser woman would run. Me, I accept the joint when Cal hands it back to me, ashing it in the sink, and then taking a long drag.

“Give us the abbreviated version for now,” Vic says, leaning against the doorjamb as I move into the bathroom behind Cal. He sits on the toilet, hands shaking as he goes to remove his shoes. When I step forward and offer to help, he doesn’t refuse. Instead, his blue eyes lift to mine in quiet strength.

I feel him so fucking hard in that moment; it’s inexplicable. This kind of connection, it only comes along a few times in infinity.

“Thank you,” Cal whispers, reaching his hand up to rub at the gash in the front of his throat. “I have to say, that man was worth his weight in gold.” Cal pauses, his lips twitching as the other boys crowd close to the door to listen in. “The enforcer, I mean. Just … not quite as much gold as me.” He chuckles again and then stands up after I’ve removed both boots, letting his pants fall to the floor. He doesn’t seem to give a fuck that we’re all standing right there. I mean, they all fucked me in front of one another, so maybe it doesn’t bother them at all? Bet they’ve had dick measuring contests, too, like with literal rulers and shit. If I were a dude, I’d probably do, that. While I was at it, I’d grab the circumference, too—just for fun.

“He’s dead?” Vic asks again and Cal casts a glance over his shoulder as he gets the water started. I’d thought before, when Callum started stripping in his room at his grandma’s house, that when he took off his hoodie, he seemed more … vulnerable. Now that I see him here, naked and bathed in the yellow of the bathroom light, I can fully admit that I’ve never been more wrong about anything. There is nothing vulnerable left in Callum Park, and that’s what makes him so damn lovely. He has a single-minded focus that just so happens to be me.

“Oh, he’s dead,” Cal confirms with a slight nod, turning back to the water and letting it stream over his hands, taking swirls of pink down the drain with it. “But it was close.”

Oscar waves his hand impatiently, gray eyes narrowed and focused on Callum like he, too, can see right through people.

“Keep going,” he prompts, removing his iPad from beneath his arm to take notes. Aaron and Hael hang back, sharing a joint of their own, the smoke mingling with the one clutched between my own fingers.

“When he took off, I chased after,” Callum explains, wetting his lower lip and closing his eyes as the water sluices between them. “Maybe not the best idea I’ve ever had.” Cal splashes water over his face and sighs. Personally, I’m too busy taking note of his myriad cuts and bruises. He looks like he got his ass kicked worse than me. “You should’ve seen the other guy,” Cal whispers huskily, and I flick my attention up to his face to find him grinning at me. I don’t know how he can smile like that, injured the way he is. “Anyway, I managed to stumble on Mason Miller.”

A chill creeps over me at the sound of that name, even though I’m fairly certain I’ve never heard it before.

“Mason motherfucking Miller,” Victor says carefully, glancing over at Oscar. “Maxwell’s second-in-command. So, you found him, but did you kill him?”

“Nope.” Cal turns back around and starts to scrub himself down with my French soap. Heh. My boys, covered in my scent. I could get used to that. “He’s going to be a challenge; he anticipated every move I made before I even knew I was making it.” He doesn’t even open his eyes as he says this, like it’s not that big of a deal.

But it is.

Because anyone that Cal considers an equal or, hell, a better is terrifying to me.

“How do you stop a garrote?” I whisper, even though it’s slightly off-topic. I can’t even imagine.

Callum glances back at me, a grim smile on his beautiful mouth.

“This guy was a professional. He used a thin wire, twisted it,