Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,9

I ever be an informant or a witness for the cops. Talk about social suicide. Besides, how would that look, for Havoc’s wife to do such a thing? I push the paperwork back and thread my fingers in my hair.

When Sara comes back in, she’s holding a familiar box. She sets it on the counter beside me. I don’t touch it, not right away. I don’t want her to know how important that box is to me. Old Homework and Assignments stares back at me in looping, feminine letters.

“We kept what we needed of Penelope’s things,” Sara tells me, laying a hand on my shoulder. It’s meant to be comforting, but my skin itches with the need to throw her off. I don’t want to be comforted right now; I want my phone back. I want to see Havoc. “You’re welcome to keep the rest.”

“Am I free to leave?” I ask, knowing that what happened at the school won’t be enough for a charge of any kind to stick to me. That was self-defense. Of course, the very fact that the GMP came to Prescott in the first place is enough to get Sara to look more closely at Havoc. But I can’t be charged for defending myself against white supremacists wearing ski masks and carrying weapons with silencers.

“You can leave,” Sara says carefully, but I can tell there’s more to this. She isn’t done with me, not by a long shot. “But I would like you to consider this offer. It’s a onetime thing, Bernadette. The DA isn’t going to give you this opportunity again.”

“Please take me home,” I insist. Sara stares at me for a moment and then nods, taking the paperwork for the deal and stacking it neatly before slipping it back into a manila folder. I grab the box of Pen’s things and head for the front door.

There’s an uneasiness in the air that tells me our city is on the brink of change.

What that change might be, depends on us.

Sara wants an informant to help clean up the streets?

Fuck her.

We take care of our own in Prescott.

And the GMP … they’re Havoc’s problem now.

Victor Channing

My palms slam into the glass of the French doors leading into the Bordeaux—an upscale wine bar in Oak River Heights that serves escargot and pâté as bar food. It’s the most pretentious place I’ve ever fucking seen. The doors swing open with a bang, causing the hostess to jump as I scowl in her direction and she cowers against the decorative rock wall like a shrinking violet.

“Excuse me, sir, you need a jacket,” a man simpers as I storm past him, dried blood crusted under my fingernails. I swear to god, I can still taste it in my mouth. I ignore the maître d' as I sweep past, dressed in a clean white t-shirt and jeans. The only shower I’ve had was a quick one down at the precinct; I could really use another. But, business first.

I pause next to the table where Ophelia and Trinity are seated, crossing my arms over my chest as they both turn their gazes up to mine. I don’t often see my mother surprised, but something akin to fear flickers in her dark eyes before she remembers to school her features against my presence.

“Victor, have a seat,” Ophelia tells me, sipping her wine. Trinity is a bit white in the face. Does she know yet, that her half-brother is dead? Or should I say her lover? Shit, they’re one in the same, aren’t they? Incestuous motherfuckers.

“I agreed to this little deal for a reason,” I say, lifting a hand and gesturing absently at Trinity Jade. She blinks up at me with eyes like sawdust. That’s the color they are to me, something dull and dusty, something useless. Scrap. Throwaway. I would never actually entertain the thought of marrying or sleeping with someone like her.

Everybody knows Prescott girls are the best in bed anyway.

A smirk catches the edge of my lips, but it doesn’t take. Today was a complete goddamn surprise to me, and I thought I’d prepared for everything. Agreeing to marry Trinity was supposed to get the Grand Murder Party off my ass. Instead, my school got shot up. Unacceptable.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Trinity asks, smoothing her hands over her lap and looking at me like she’d happily ride my dick into oblivion. I stare back at her, and I don’t bother to mask my feelings. I wait until she