boys chuck him into the back of the SUV, leaving him with Aaron and his .22 since we don’t have any ropes or gags on us. Gotta improvise where you can, right?
“I’ve scrambled the camera feed,” Oscar tells Hael as I sit in the SUV with Callum, feeling useless as the guys deal with picking up the pieces of this mess. “I can’t say what it recorded before now, but it’s the best I can do in the moment.”
“Good enough,” Hael says, climbing in the driver’s seat of Neil’s squad car and slamming the door. He takes off down the winding cemetery road as the other boys join me in the SUV and we follow after.
I have no memory of that drive into town, only of laying my head on Cal’s lap and feeling his fingers stir my hair.
When I wake up, I find us parked outside the old Prescott High building, music blasting from inside. Neil’s car is in front of us, and there are about a dozen girls waiting beside it. Pretty sure Stacey Langford is one of them.
“Hey there, sleepyhead,” Vic says with a tired smile, watching as I yawn and stumble from the SUV with Callum beside me, like my own personal guardsman. Hael, Aaron, and Oscar are already on the sidewalk waiting for me. “I was just about to give Stacey the go-ahead.”
“Go-ahead for what?” I ask, glancing over at her and her strange posse of girls, all of them dressed in pink sweatshirts and matching ski masks. Stacey yanks hers on and smiles as I cling to Callum, cranky and tired but alive. Alive and safe.
“We paid Stacey to start a riot, didn’t we, Stacey?” Oscar asks, and she shrugs.
“We would’ve done it for free, as a favor,” she clarifies, showing me teeth through the hole of her ski mask. “You ready?”
Vic nods, just once. He doesn’t need anything more than that. That’s what makes him a leader, all of that insane charisma and confidence. “Light it up.”
“Girls,” Stacey says, and then they all move forward, putting their palms up against the side of Neil’s police cruiser and rocking it forward and back, until it tips over with a groaning creak of metal. Windows shatter, covering the pavement with shards of glass. One of Stacey’s girls steps up and douses the damn thing in gasoline.
“Bernie?” Cal asks, holding out a matchbox as chaos erupts around us. People pour from the building in pink ski masks and skeleton masks both, wielding baseball bats and hammers, shovels and torches.
Without hesitation, they start flipping cars along the edge of the street.
Holy fuck.
I lift my head and see that Callum is still waiting for me to take the matches. I lick the blood from my lips as I grab them, staring down at the overturned police car as the night lights up like the Fourth of July.
“Do it,” Victor purrs, watching me carefully. “Finish it.”
Goddamn these boys. They’ve managed to find the perfect cover-up.
“You’ve got this,” Aaron reassures me as I strike the match.
Neil’s cruiser will be gone. He’ll be missing. And yet, his disappearance will be steeped in havoc, chaos, and mayhem. What we’re going to do with him after tonight … that’s another matter entirely.
I chuck the match at the car and watch as it goes up in a swath of brilliant, vibrant flame.
“Let’s go home,” Cal suggests as I stand there in the crackling heat, the sound of sirens piercing the distance. “We still have a wedding to attend tomorrow.” With a nod, I let him escort me back to the SUV and we take off, dragging Neil’s comatose body along for the ride.
I don’t stay awake long enough to remember getting home, only that I open my eyes and find myself in Aaron’s bed. He isn’t there, but when I head downstairs, I find him in the kitchen drinking coffee with the rest of the Havoc Boys.
Their conversation stops when I come into the room, bleary-eyed and exhausted from yesterday. I can hardly believe that we have to deal with Neil and have a wedding today. It doesn’t seem possible. Besides, the guys might’ve walked from the station, but that doesn’t mean they’re free and clear.
No, this shit is just beginning.
“Coffee?” Hael asks, lifting up his mug and saluting me with it. “A little caffeine to get you through the horror of a wedding night with Victor.”
“Heh,” Vic snorts, looking askance at his best friend. “You’re just salty because your birthday got fucked. Well,