“You knew about this?” Sara asks softly, and even though she’s now fully aware of what, exactly, snitches get stitches means, I can tell I’ve lost some credibility.

“Look, officer,” I say, tucking my hands into the pockets of my pink lacy nightmare of a dress. It’s so short in the front that I’ll have to be careful if I sit down. Or don some rings so I can straddle a bitch and punch the fuck out of her. Likely, my panties might show in that case which is fine because I wore some good ones tonight, some white lacy ones that Hael bought for me.

Again, if Aaron hadn’t been missing, I might’ve appreciated finding a lingerie box on my bed that read From the H in Havoc on it. Gah. I need less time fighting monsters and more time figuring out boys.

I smile.

“Kali’s been screwing like, a hundred different guys. It’d be impossible for me to figure out who the father of her kid was without a DNA test,” I continue, keeping that pretty smile in place. The barb works and Kali’s head snaps up, her fangs bared, eight eyes glittering as she rears her arachnid-like body at me.

I am all about animal metaphors today, apparently.

“Like you can talk, letting five guys who hate you stick their dicks in your dry cunt,” she snarls, her words pitched intentionally loud for the room to hear. Things are quieting down around us as people start to eavesdrop. Good. I hope someone records this and puts it online. I’d gladly share every conversation I ever had with this girl with the entire world; I have nothing to hide. I did nothing wrong except maybe hesitate too long in clapping back.

“Oh, I can assure you that it’s never dry,” I purr, removing my hand from my pocket and running two fingers down between my breasts. Since I’m sure Sara is a bit of a prude, I keep my fingers at my belly button rather than going all the way for my clit. “And I wouldn’t need a DNA test anyway. We’re family. It’d just be a Havoc baby. You, on the other hand, don’t have any such arrangement. Does Mitch know about Neil, hmm? What about … Mack and David?”

As soon as those last two names leave my lips, I can see it register in her face: I’m right. She is meeting with Mack and David.

Also, she’s clearly furious about something else that must’ve happened before she got here tonight. Interestingly enough, I don’t think she’s all that butt-hurt over the guys Cal killed at the racetrack, the ones whose bodies we left behind.

Anxiety creeps up on me, despite knowing that the Charter Crew likely did away with their corpses. They can’t afford to be caught either. Still … I don’t like loose ends.

“Typical Prescott bullshit,” Stacey Langford says loudly, drawing the attention of the nearby crowd as she tips back a brown bottle labelled as root beer. It most certainly is not fucking root beer. Bet it’s not even beer. Vodka, probably. Or whiskey. We really like a cheap bottle of Everclear around here at Prescott High. Could be that. “Two girls trying to figure out who’s the bigger whore.” Stacey takes another swig, her blond hair crimped and hanging around her shoulders in thick waves. She’s got a mad nineties look going on tonight as she swipes her arm over her pale-pink painted lips, eyes locking on Kali. “But this isn’t even a competition: we all know what the answer is.”

Stacey cups her hands around her mouth and howls; the sound picks up across the room until nearly half the crowd is reverberating with the cries of Havoc.

Sara looks so confused. Some of the cops have their hands on their guns. I wish I could say they wouldn’t dare pull them in a room full of teens, but … eh. There’s private security here tonight, too. Always is, when this many Oak Valley assholes are in attendance. They won’t interfere unless one of their rich patrons is in trouble though.

I let my own head fall back, releasing a howl that joins in the chorus. When I drop my head back down, I see that I’ve truly and utterly done it. I’ve pushed Kali’s buttons in just such a way that I know for certain that this will end tonight.

Tonight, tonight, tonight.

Stacey passes me her bottle of root beer, and I take a drink. Holy fuck, that burns like fire. Whiskey, it is most definitely whiskey. Cheap, nasty, likely stolen whiskey. I take another swig as I turn away from Kali Rose. I’m not done with her per se, but I also can’t beat a bitch in front of a cop, so …

“Is it okay if I stop by your place for coffee again?” I ask, pausing to glance back at Sara. We exchange a long, studying look, and she dips her chin briefly in acknowledgement before turning back to Kali.

I can feel the nutcase’s eyes on my back as I turn and weave my way through the crowd.

Stacey stays close by.

Maybe she thinks we should be friends, too?

“Hey, so I know this is bad timing …” she starts, and I give her a look, remembering the way she stared at me on the first day of school, when I let that terrifyingly beautiful word slip past my lips. Havoc.

“I hope you know what you're doing,” she said to me.

A better choice I never made.

“And with that lead-up …” I start, feeling my boys gravitate back toward me. They’re in orbit. I am the sun. I close my eyes for a moment to just soak that shit in. When I open them, I find Stacey’s eyes flicking around to catalogue and acknowledge each of them. She isn’t dumb, never has been. She’s known since moment one which side the winning one was.

“Havoc,” Stacey says with a long-suffering sigh. She cringes slightly and steals the bottle back from me. “One of my girls has a problem she needs assistance with. It shouldn’t be too far out of your realm. It just … might require some extra care.”

“Request recorded,” Oscar says, appearing like a ghost beside me. He’s wearing a black button-down with white skull and crossbones cufflinks, boots, and black slacks. I stole five—check it—five of these outfits for my boys. It took me three different stores, and a hell of a lot of moxie, but I did it.

And yet … one outfit sits unused and waiting on Aaron’s bed.

My heart splinters and shatters briefly, and I double over, putting a hand to my chest. To anyone else, it might look like I have heartburn or something. In reality, I’m aching for Aaron so badly that I can’t breathe. Where are you, Fadler? What has she done with you?

“We’ll dig into this a bit later,” Vic says, the sound of his voice soothing some of my demons. Even if it doesn’t seem like it at times, he cares about Aaron as much as I do. I know he does. Whatever it takes, whatever the outcome, we’ll find our ‘A’. After all, HBVOC doesn’t really spell anything, now does it? “We have shit brewing tonight.”

“Oh, everyone knows,” Stacey says with a loose shrug. Her sleeveless dress catches the light and ripples with sparkles. “I’m not the first or only person to notice that Aaron is missing.” She pauses, her attention sliding to me, not unsympathetically. “I’ll let you know if my girls see or hear anything.”

She peels off from our group as Hael and Callum slide in on either side of me. Oscar looks briefly annoyed by Hael’s shoving between us, but it only lasts for a second, and I’m left wondering if I imagined the entire thing.

“What was that all about?” Vic asks as I lift my eyes to his. Those crow-black eyes are endless; they draw me in and take my breath away. If only I had the time or leisure to swoon and fall into his arms.

“Kali admitted to Sara that she’s carrying Neil’s baby,” I say with a loose shrug of one shoulder. “That is, if she’s even really pregnant at all. Or telling the truth. We all know the girl is a first-class liar.”

“If she’s going to the cops, that means she’s in a different position today than she was last week,” Vic muses, and Callum nods, reaching up for a hood that isn’t there since, you know, he’s wearing the outfit that I asked him to wear. He scowls for a brief moment and then cringes.

“Right. Like she has no intention of sticking out the rest of the year at Prescott.” Cal exhales, blue eyes scanning the crowd. They’re always moving, those pretty, blue eyes of his. I can’t imagine a single threat getting past him.

“Or of pleasing the Charter Crew,” Hael says, frowning. He snaps his fingers and glances over at Oscar. “I haven’t seen Mitch tonight. Have you?”

“No. He hasn’t shown up yet,” Oscar says, licking the corner of his lip. “And he wasn’t injured at the racetrack.” There’s a small pause here before Oscar smiles tightly. “Unfortunately.”

We all seem to turn as one unit, scouting out Logan Charter in the crowd. He, too, was unhurt at the race. Things did not go as planned. The only positive I can discern in the whole mess is that I’ve finally snapped. My brain is painted with murderous watercolor, just red and black and violent.

“Bet he knows where Mitch is,” Vic muses, sliding his own tattooed hands into his pockets. I think about that day in tenth grade when the boys all showed up with fresh ink on their pretty hands. Instead of wanting to break their fingers the way I should have, all I could do was close my eyes and imagine those inked digits digging into my hair, pulling my face close, tracing the upper curve of my lip. Vic tattooed Oscar who tattooed Hael who tattooed Callum who tattooed Aaron … Victor tattooed himself. Explains a lot, huh?

You’re missing a part of that story, Bernie, I tell myself, my throat closing up. Callum tattooed Aaron who tattooed … you. I flex my fingers before turning to Victor. He’s the leader, after all. He should have all the answers.

“Logan is surrounded by Charter Crew; Kali is snuggled up to a cop. What’s our next step?”

“Follow me,” Vic says, and because the other boys know as well as I do how goddamn competent he is, we do. Because Aaron needs us, and I have a bad feeling that his time is running out.

Aaron Fadler

I have no idea how long I’ve been lying here, playing the odds, running through different scenarios. None of them are good, to be quite honest with you. I’ve been a part of Havoc long enough to understand how we work.