Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,44

need to know. “Bernadette, I’d like to speak with you again. I’m afraid you’re not safe here. The Grand Murder Party isn’t another high school gang to trade insults with. They’ve wiped out their entire crew here in Springfield.”

My eyes widen slightly. Don’t have to fake that one. Well, shit, that helps explain the shooting. Kill Stacey and her girls for the robbery. Get rid of the rest of the Charter Crew so there’s nobody left to squeal. Destroy Havoc.

Only … I once described Havoc as a five-headed hydra. You cannot destroy something that is legendary.

“We’re going to move to a safe house,” I tell her, pushing away from Oscar and then throwing my arms around the detective. It’s a risky move. The cops in South Prescott have been known to shoot you for less. But I go for it and then whisper in her ear. “I’ll send you the address; I’m afraid, Sara.”

I let go of her and sniffle, cringing as I look down and realize how much I’m bleeding. I need to get inside, clean up, empty my cup. This is annoying to me already.

“You need to see a doctor, Bernadette,” Sara stresses, flicking her eyes to Oscar and then past him, toward the house. All of the boys are waiting outside—even Callum. As soon as she sees him, Sara’s face tightens. “I see you’ve found Mr. Park.”

“They tried to kill him,” I tell her, and this time, I don’t have to glance back at Vic or Oscar to figure out what I’m supposed to be saying. I’m queen here. I live and breathe south Prescott. Havoc is mine. I know what I’m doing. “He ran and hid. One guy had a garrote.”

Sara’s nostrils flare as she notices the scabbed-over gash on Cal’s neck.

“That would be Russ Bauer,” she says, and I’m not sure why she’s telling me this or if she’s even supposed to say as much. “He’s an enforcer for the Grand Murder Party. Bernadette, if they’re sending him after you then you really are in danger. You should be in protective custody.”

“We handle our own in the southside, police girl,” Oscar says, his tone dismissive and cold. “Why don’t you do your job, and we’ll do ours?”

“Which is what? Playing at being gangbangers? I don’t think you understand what you’re up against,” Sara says, her cool façade cracking around the edges. She’s wearing black pants and a very familiar looking blue jacket. Bet ya it says FBI in yellow on the back.

“Did you see the carnage at Prescott High?” I ask, shaking my head. “It’s not a crime to defend ourselves which we will do if pushed.”

Sara just stares at me like I’m a puzzle she’s desperate to put together. She wants to understand me, but she can’t. We’re from different worlds. Doesn’t mean we have to be enemies. We want the same thing: for the bad guys to be punished.

“There must be a reason you and your partner were hanging around here,” Oscar deadpans, turning his attention over to Detective Constantine. Shit, I have no idea why I keep calling him ‘detective’. He’s obviously with the VGTF as well. I think about when we first met, and he was questioning me over Danny Ensbrook. Because of the GMP.

The FBI thinks the GMP took out the entire Charter Crew.

This could be a good turn of luck for us.

“We’re expecting the GMP to hit you hard-and-fast,” Sara explains, glancing over at the squad car with Pamela in the back seat. Nailing her for Neil’s murder … That’s such a Havoc move right there. What was it that Victor said to me at the boutique? “Poetic justice, personal choice, and wrongs made right.”

Perfection.

“We could protect you, Bernadette. All of you. If you wanted,” she continues when I don’t respond to her previous statement. She’s grooming me to be a snitch. Baiting me. I refuse to rise to the occasion, staring wordlessly back at her until she shakes her head and turns toward Callum instead. “Mr. Park, a word?” she asks, and he complies, moving over to speak to her on the driveway.

Me? I barely make it into the house before my head starts to spin and I get so dizzy that I can’t find my feet.

Surprisingly, it’s Oscar motherfucking Montauk who picks me up and carries me upstairs to the shower.

“You are in so much fucking trouble for making me watch that,” Vic growls out as we pass by, but I know he doesn’t mean it. I