Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,5

protecting me?

My throat tightens up, and I slam my door as hard as I can, making the walls shake. Mom screams something at me from the hallway, but I flick the extra locks I installed, and then jam my headphones over my ears. When the Thing realized I’d added a chain lock and a deadbolt, he’d looked me right in the face and laughed.

“You think I couldn’t get in there if I wanted?” he’d sneered, and then he’d let his fingers dance over the gun on his hip. As if I could ever forget that he’s a cop, and I’m just a seventeen-year-old loser who got bullied so bad she was afraid to go to school.

My life is a perfect storm, full of lightning, thunder, and rain clouds, swirling in from all directions. No matter where I go or what I do, I can’t escape it. And that’s why I spent all summer thinking, wondering if I should call on them, those Havoc Boys, wondering if their price is worth a pound of flesh.

I finally came to the conclusion after I found one of Pen’s journals: it is.

It really, really is.

No matter what it is they did to me.

No matter what it is they do to me.

Two years earlier …

My feet are bare, and the ground hurts. There are sticks, thorns, and stones all over the place, but I can’t stop running. If I do, they’ll catch me, and I’m afraid to see what those dark grins and awful laughter lead to.

I know what monsters like to do in the dark, and I won’t let myself be taken by them, those awful, awful Havoc Boys.

They dragged me out of my bed in the dark, without waking my mother, my stepfather, or either of my sisters.

They told me to run.

So even though it’s pouring rain, I do it. I run, and I don’t stop until I can’t catch a breath, falling to my knees and soaking my pajama pants straight through. I tried to circle around and go back to the house, but two of them were waiting there for me.

I’m just lucky they didn’t see me.

Choking on my shuttered breaths, I rise to my feet and keep going, and I don’t stop until the rain lets up and the sun kisses the horizon. By then I’m so exhausted, I can barely keep my body upright.

This time, when I go back, they’re gone, but I know that’s not the end of this.

Not even close.

Somebody called out Havoc, somebody made a deal.

And this time, I’m the mark.

At school on Friday, Victor finally pulls me aside, grabbing me by the elbow and dragging me into the dark theater where Callum is trying on questionable looking masks. The places Vic’s fingers touch, they burn. The sensation makes me sick to my stomach.

“We have a price for you,” Vic says, circling around me like a shark. I can smell him, too, this pungent mix of bergamot, tobacco, amber, and musk. The stink of it makes me shiver and then bite down on my tongue to hide the reaction. God forbid I give Victor or the other Havoc Boys even an ounce of physical appreciation. They’re pretty, I’ll admit that. But they don’t need to know that I know that.

“Finally,” I spit, because that caustic, bitter nature of mine was learned, not gifted to me from birth. I never asked to be this way, this ornery, this angry, but I wasn’t given many choices. In order to keep myself and my sister safe, I adapted to the harsh world I was thrust into. “Like you said, no talking in circles, be direct and all that.”

“What happened to you?” Victor asks, tilting his head slightly to one side, his dark eyes even darker in the mysterious shadows of the theater. Prescott High hasn’t received proper funding in years, but Ms. Keating busts ass every fall to raise money for the arts programs. She thinks artistic endeavors can heal damaged souls. It’s a lofty ideal, but impractical at best. Nobody can save us, society’s throwaways. “You used to be so …” He reaches out and lifts a lock of my hair, tossing a dark smirk my direction. “Sweet.”

“You,” I say, without flinching, without hesitating. From a chair in the front row, Hael chuckles, playing with his phone, probably texting some girl. Out of them all, he’s the biggest whore, hands down. Oscar sits on the edge of the stage, legs crossed at the knee, working on his iPad