Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,147
that leads into the funhouse area. “I’m a part of Havoc, too.” I try to tear my grip from his, but his hands are like steel. I’m not going anywhere.
The music continues to blare as the room empties out, the floors already spattered with blood as the two groups beat each other to pulps. A few of the clown-masked assholes are heading our way, but Aaron doesn’t wait for them, yanking me into the funhouse.
The fog machines in here are insane. Paired with the red strobe lights and the myriad mirrors, it’s impossible to see. But Aaron manages to drag me through anyway, putting some distance between us and the party. At first, I struggle, but pitting myself against one of Havoc’s best fighters isn’t going to win us any wars. So I follow after him, convinced that as soon as we get outside, I can break away from him and make my way around to the front.
Instead, we end up stumbling into a round room filled with cackling animatronic clowns. Plastic caution tape lines the walls, and as Aaron goes to try the door, he finds it locked from the outside. So much for those guys Vic sent around to watch the back. They must be getting their asses kicked right now.
“Goddamn it,” Aaron growls out, using his bat to try to dislodge the heavy wood door. But it won’t budge, and we’re running out of time. Six of the clown-masked idiots stumble into the room, surrounding us. Aaron doesn’t hesitate to hand me his bat, whipping a gun out from inside his trench coat. “Don’t try me tonight, or I’ll splatter your brains all over the walls.”
“Really?” one of our attackers asks, and since her voice isn’t being manipulated by a voice changer, I know right away that it’s Billie I’m talking to. “Because we’re here to meet you on your terms this time.” One of the guys pulls out a pistol of his own and levels it on me. “You’re going to choke on blood for what you did to my brother.”
Aaron doesn’t bother to respond to her threat. Instead, he just pulls the trigger and sends the guy stumbling back into the wall. He’s shot him right in the shoulder, in the red spot where he’d applied the fake blood to his faux wound. Guess it’s a real one now, huh? A nice match for Mitch.
But Clown-Guy isn’t the only person in that room with a gun, and as Aaron moves his own weapon to take another shot, one is coming right at my chest. Without thinking, my ex steps right in front of me, taking the bullet meant for me.
It’s all happening so fast, and it’s so damn hard to see in here that I can’t tell where Aaron’s been hit. The thing is, he doesn’t even drop. Instead, he lifts his own weapon up and fires again, shattering one of the mirrors. Everyone in the room scatters, including us, ducking behind the wood frames of the mirrors to hide.
Pretty sure I’m just saying holy fuck over and over again. My fingers search for blood as I probe Aaron’s chest, and he slumps to the floor. He’s shaking, but I don’t see any red as I unzip his hoodie and find that he’s actually wearing fucking Kevlar underneath. That is, I don’t see any red until I grab his arm. Looks like in all the hubbub, he was shot twice, once in the chest and once in the left bicep.
“You guys don’t fuck around, do you?” I whisper, quivering as Aaron forces a tight smile to his face.
“Not particularly,” he says, pushing me aside and trying to sit up. Blood leaks from his left arm, smearing my fingers with crimson when I reach out to take a look. “No time.” Aaron pulls away from me, stumbling a bit as he tries to stand. I don’t know a lot about guns or Kevlar or any of that shit, but I do know that getting hit in a ‘bulletproof’ vest still hurts like a bitch and leaves one hell of a bruise.
I have a brief moment there where I wonder if all the guys are wearing Kevlar, and why I’m not. But there’s not exactly a lull in the conversation for me to ask about that. Instead, two of the clown-masked dickheads break through the fog as Aaron lifts up his bat and takes a swing. I move back, out of range of the weapon, ready to