Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,7
It’s not too late for you to back out and run, you know that, right?”
I nod, resolute in my determination. My heart thunders in my chest, waiting, anticipating. Sweat drips down my back. Hael makes a sound, and Callum lifts up the mask, but nobody moves.
Vic maintains that ironclad control over my gaze.
“If we take this job, you become ours.” His words hang in the quiet air, almost like a threat, almost like he’s warning me away before we even get started. But he underestimates how deep my determination goes. A slight smile works its way across his lips as the door at the end of the room opens and a troupe of theater geeks—or as close to theater geeks as we get at Prescott High goes—steps in. “Get the fuck out,” Victor says, not bothering to raise his voice or even glance their way. “We’re busy in here.”
There’s absolutely no hesitation from the group as they scramble to obey Victor’s command.
I open my mouth to make some snarky-ass comment, but the words won’t come. Instead, I clamp my lips shut and squeeze my hands into fists at my sides. If I make my palms bleed by squeezing too hard, nobody has to know.
“If we take this job,” Vic repeats, taking a step closer to me, so close that the toes of his boots kiss mine. He touches a finger to my chin and then trails it along the length of my jaw. I’m trembling now, whether in rage or desperate, needy ardor, I’m not sure. Does it matter? “You become one of us, a Havoc Girl.”
I swallow hard.
“Now who’s talking in circles?” I manage to get out, wishing he’d stop touching me, knowing that if I take this deal, he never will. Vic’s smirk deepens, and he leans in, hovering his mouth over mine.
“You’ll do what I say when I say it,” he continues, and I feel myself bristling. I hate being told what to do, hate it with a passion. I’ve been ordered around my whole life, by one person or another, and I haven’t exactly ended up on a bed of roses. “In all areas.” Vic slides his fingers into my hair, and I jerk away. The small act of protest makes him chuckle. “If you want this, you'll be our plaything. You’ll be our accomplice. Bernadette, if you want this, it’s blood in, and blood out. Do you understand that?”
“I—” I start to answer, but Victor cuts me off with a look, all hard lines and dark shadows.
“No. I don’t want an answer yet. Take a few days to think about it, Bernadette. Decide if your life is worth your revenge.” He steps back, and I hear Hael make a noise of protest from the front row.
“For fucking real, Vic? Make her answer now.” Hael stands up and starts toward the stage, but a slow, menacing look from Victor stops him cold, and he curses, backing up with his palms raised.
“Take the week,” Vic repeats, moving away from me and hopping off the edge of the stage, his boots loud on the cement floor. “Because once you give your answer, you can’t take it back.”
“You’ll do what I say when I say it.”
I’m not sure Vic could’ve uttered a single other sentence that would’ve infuriated me quite so much. The sex angle, I expected. In fact, I was almost hoping for it. Sex is easy if you approach it the right way, just two bodies working off their basic instincts. Never mind that I’ve only ever been with a few guys, and even then, only a handful of times. Never mind that one of those guys was Aaron Fadler.
“Shit.” I grab a book off my nightstand and chuck it at the wall as hard as I can. I’m satisfied when it leaves a dent, but that doesn’t push back the anxiety or the worry as I rub my palms over my face. “You’ll be our plaything.” How else am I supposed to interpret that? I’ll be at their beck and call for sex, all five of them. What was it that Vic said, a Havoc Girl?
My skin tingles, and I wrap my arms over my chest. When I was in middle school, I watched them from afar with desperation, always wanting to be a part of their little group, knowing that I never would be. And then sophomore year happened, and no amount of pleading could stop that wave of pain.