Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,9

sort of way. Unlike Vic, he doesn’t get any deeper than my exterior, doesn’t delve into my soul with a pair of flint-like eyes. Instead, his gaze takes in my tight leather pants, and black Harley tank with interest. “So, which do you prefer? The Camaro or the bike?” He gestures back at Vic’s ride with his thumb, and I give the shiny Harley a cursory glance. For such poor boys, they sure have nice rides.

It’s easy to deduce that they either stole them or, more likely, stole the money or parts to make them happen.

Havoc’s control isn’t limited to Prescott High. I know they have a network of assholes that run the city. It’s a little scary, if you think about it, these seventeen and eighteen-year-old boys running their gang. If they’re this bad now, what’s going to happen in five years? Or ten? That is, if they even make it that long. Like me, I assume they all live life under the assumption they’ve got an expiration date in the not-so-near future.

“I didn’t come to talk cars or bikes,” I say, glancing over at Vic, Callum, Oscar, and Aaron, all perched on the back steps where the food trucks make the weekly deliveries to the cafeteria. “Actually, I—”

“No,” Vic says, that one word spoken so quietly it barely breaks the sudden gust of wind across the lot. But it’s powerful enough to halt any further conversation in its tracks. “I said take the week.” He looks right at me, and I can see this is yet another test.

“You’ll do what I say when I say it.”

Fuck.

Aaron glares at me from green-gold eyes, smoking his cigarette and biting back whatever caustic, awful thing it is he wants to say to me. Bet Vic told him to keep his mouth shut.

As I stand there, I feel them looking at me, all five of them with different expectations, different wants. I should be scared to be out here alone with them, but as of right now, I’m a potential client. They won’t hurt me, not yet.

“Get lost, Bernadette,” Vic says, leaning back on the steps, his expression the most difficult one to read. Hael looks like he wants to bend me over the hood of his car; Oscar looks like he wants to do my fucking taxes; Callum has a much darker, scarier expression on his face. But it’s Aaron who looks like he might want to kill me. “Come find me on Friday to let me know your decision. Until then, stay lost, would you?”

Slowly, I back away and head inside, seething with anger.

And even though I try to hide it, a shiver takes over my entire body. As I sweep past, I know that even Stacey and her girls can see it.

Despite my bravado, I really am terrified, aren’t I?

But am I scared of Havoc? Or scared of what I might become if I give into them?

Vic is sitting in his front yard when I bike over on Friday, my boots crunching across the gravel as I climb off and head his direction. He barely glances my way, but I can see the tense set of his shoulders. If I were a threat, he'd neutralize me without a second thought.

“Bernie, what brings you to this side of the city?” he asks, slowly blowing smoke from between his full lips. He's lounging in a plastic chair on the front lawn of his father's run-down little farmhouse. I remember this place well; I spent a whole week in one of its closets.

“I'll do it.” The words scrape past my throat, like hot coals burning their way up my esophagus. My hands are shaking, but inside, I'm nothing but white-hot rage. I need this, and I hate Vic for making me crawl all the way over here to tell him that.

“Yeah?” He exhales smoke, his violet hair catching the sunlight. Vic just barely glances over his shoulder at me, the tattoos on his neck crinkling with the motion. “Then get over here and sit on my lap.”

My mouth purses. I don't like being told what to do.

“If you want this, you'll be our plaything.”

I must be fucking mad. And yet, the only things that motivate me are my sister … and my vengeance. I don't care about anything anymore, not even myself.

Moving forward, I squeeze between two overgrown bushes and toss my ratty backpack on the ground.

Vic's dark eyes follow me as I walk over and straddle his lap. The expression of