“I strongly advise against this,” Oscar says, now standing at the bottom of the stage, inked fingers tight around the edges of the iPad, like if he squeezes it hard enough, that’ll erase all the feelings he keeps trapped inside. “The last thing we need in Havoc is a slice of trouble with tits.”
I rest my elbows on my knees as Aaron drops his hands to his lap. He’s shaking all over, murder in his eyes. He’ll never forgive me for this, but who cares? He hasn’t forgiven me for asking him to give up Bernadette in tenth grade. What’s so different now? He’ll never truly have her again, not to himself.
“We will have Bernadette,” I say, and I only use the word we because these boys are my family. My gang, if you will. We were here first, but our prologue was Bernadette. Apparently, she’s desperate enough to become our epilogue, too. Just … hopefully not our epitaph. “I will have Bernadette,” I emphasize, staring into Aaron’s eyes.
On the outside, I’m as calm as I always am. On the inside, I motherfucking burn.
Bernadette, Bernadette, Bernadette.
Her name repeats in my head like it’s on a loop, and my cock stiffens inside my jeans. I squeeze my hands into fists, and Aaron notices.
“You’ve never been able to accept that she really did love me,” he growls, and my smile turns into a maniacal smirk. I’m probably showing far too much teeth.
“I’m a jealous, selfish man, Aaron Fadler. And you no longer have the protection of the innocent. Your hands are just as covered in blood; your soul is just as dark.” I shrug my shoulders and rise to my feet before turning to Oscar. “Write it down.” I nod my chin at the screen of his iPad, but he doesn’t move to obey, not right away.
I’m vaguely aware of them arguing around me for a while longer, but I’m not listening.
Instead, I’m trapped in a nightmare I’ve entertained for years, one where Bernadette is looking at me like she hates me.
Like she did when she passed me in the hall today.
Like she did on the first day of school.
Like she did when I held her prisoner in my closet.
Some men dream when they sleep. Some of us live in nightmares, whether we’re asleep or not.
And if I can’t get Bernadette to see who I really am, then I’m afraid I’ll never wake up.
It strikes me suddenly, what I’ve just said, and a laugh spills from my throat.
“Boss?” Hael asks, watching me skeptically. I shake my head at him and rub my chin in thought.
“The discussion is over,” I say, letting my voice drop to a dangerous low, caught somewhere between a purr and a growl. Like I said, I haven’t felt fear—true fear—since I was five. I’m sure as shit feeling it now. “Bernadette is mine, or no deal.”
I hop off the stage and slap my palm on Oscar’s iPad.
“Write it down—now. I’m off to find our new girl.” I lift my hand up and keep going, shoving open the doors to the theater and storming down the hall. Students scatter in my wake, as they should.
When I first started this gang, others tried to copy me. Hell, they still do—just look at Mitch Charter. They can pretend to be inspired by me all they want, but they’re nothing. Poor imitations at best, plagiarists at worst. I’m content to watch them scrabble like rats for my crumbs.
Because I’m Victor Channing. This is Havoc. We’re OG, and everyone else can get fucked.
And Bernadette Blackbird … she’s going to be my goddamn wife if it kills me.
Which, thinking about it now, it just might.
Halloween night, Now …
Bernadette Blackbird
There are two sides to every story, but usually, only one of them is true.
According to my stepfather, my sister Penelope was a sad, lonely, little girl who was desperate for attention. It’s why she made up those lies; it’s why she killed herself.
Looking into his dark gaze, I can tell we both know better.
“Take a seat,” Neil Pence repeats, dressed in his uniform and smiling like only he can, like a gator who’s just scented his next meal at the edge of the swamp. His brown hair is disheveled, his stubble thick around those fat, worm-like lips of his. I’ve never wanted to see someone dead the way I do him. “That blood real?”
He knows it is. The question mark at the end of that sentence is just for fun.