“You're not taking a drive alone with my man,” I say, and there it is, just sitting out there for the entire world to hear. I don't give a shit if I sound ratchet as hell either. It is what it is. I might've been born into wealth, but I grew up in poverty. South Prescott is in my blood, and I'm a stronger person for it. What does bourgeois Brittany and her upper middle-class bullshit have on me? I'll tell you what: fucking nothing. “And he isn't carrying your baby.”

“You'd know that how?” Brittany asks, clutching her drink close to her chest. “He fucked me enough times that it's a possibility.” Without thinking, I step forward and hit the bottom of her cup, upending the coffee all over her pale red sweater. She gasps and steps back, shaking out the fabric to keep it away from her skin.

“I know that he always used a condom with you. I know that I don't like you. And I know that Hael belongs to me now. That's what matters.”

“Holy shit,” Hael whistles from behind me, but he doesn’t step in or stop me from doing my thing. He doesn’t contradict me either, despite the fact that we’ve never once had a conversation about our relationship or lack thereof.

Something happened to me on Halloween night though. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I feel like I’m being pulled apart by the wicked fingers of the universe, and only I can figure out how to put myself back together.

“Bernadette,” Oscar says, appearing at my side like a summoned ghost. He freaks me the fuck out, this motherfucker. Like, how does he materialize out of nowhere like that? I haven't gotten the chance to ask him. “You know we treat potential clients with respect,” he says, giving me a look before glancing back at a fuming Brittany. “I hear you've called Havoc. What is it that you want?”

“I want Hael to step up and be a father to his goddamn kid,” Brittany snaps back, tearing her sweater over her head and leaving only her tank top. She's so skinny that even though she isn't far along, her baby bump is showing. The sight of it makes me feel nauseous. Some distant part of me recognizes that I'm being a bad feminist. I should support Brittany honestly. In all reality, it probably is Hael's kid. But I don't like that. It doesn't work into my goddamn narrative, and you know what? Senior year is my year, and I don't want to share.

“If it even is my kid,” Hael growls back at her. He snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me back against him, claiming me. I love it, and I revel in the look on Brittany's face, even though I know I rightfully shouldn't. Even though I sort of hate Havoc right now.

“Let her finish,” Oscar purrs, turning to look at us, taking note of Hael's arm around my waist, and then turning back to Brittany. “Go on.”

Brittany swallows hard, tossing espresso dark hair over her shoulder.

“I want Hael to take responsibility for the baby, to be a father, to come with me to my appointments.” She swallows hard and looks away, like we're about to get to the core of what she really wants here. “And I want him to come with me to tell my dad.”

“Fuck no,” Hael snaps back, his arm tightening around me. “Are you kidding? Do you want to see me dead or behind bars? Your father will fucking kill me.”

“No,” Brittany cries out, her voice this reedy plead that makes my teeth hurt. She takes another step forward, but I press my body back into Hael's. I licked him; he's mine now. “I won't let him hurt you, but it has to happen. We have to tell him.”

“We don't have to do shit,” Hael snaps, but Oscar gives him another long, studying look and he snaps his teeth together.

“What else?” Oscar asks, turning back to look at Brittany. “Because once we calculate a price, there's no going back.”

Brittany nods and swallows.

“I need you guys to deal with … another guy I’m having problems with.” She exhales and pulls her balled-up sweater against her chest. “That, and I want to get back together,” she adds, and I feel myself go hot and then cold on the inside. “That is, if the baby is his.”

“If?” Hael repeats, and I swear, I can feel his heart beating against my back. My fingers trace across his tattooed arms, teasing the hair there with my nails. He shudders behind me, but I can't tell if that's because he likes me touching him or because he's completely freaked out by Brittany's presence.

“Another condition I have is that I want time to talk to Hael alone.” Brittany narrows her eyes on me. “And if the baby is his, then I want us back together, and I want her”—Brittany points a French manicured nail tip at me—“to keep her slutty hands off of him.”

A laugh bubbles up from out of nowhere, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to throw myself at that girl, to hit her somewhere that isn't her belly and listen to her howl in pain.

“That won't be possible,” Oscar amends, before I get a chance to second-guess my own self-control. “Bernadette is a member of Havoc; Hael is a member of Havoc. These things are signed and sealed in blood; they cannot be undone.”

“You're a member of Havoc, and you don't fuck him,” Brittany blurts at Oscar, throwing her arm out for emphasis as she clutches her ruined sweater even closer. Oscar gives her a long, studying sort of look.

“No, I don't, but I could if I wanted to. Havoc is family, and you are not family and will never be. So. I will look into your request and get back to you with a price, but what Bernadette and Hael do in the bedroom is not and will never be your business.” Oscar turns away from her and moves over to the Camaro, pausing to glance over his shoulder at Brittany. “Meet us at the drive-in after school tomorrow, and we'll give you our price.”

“On your side of the tracks?” Brittany manages to choke out, but there's no need for any of us to answer her in that regard. We all know that the answer to that question is yes.

Hael opens the passenger side door for me, and I climb in, deciding that for today, at least, I'll accept his gentlemanly advances. Brittany gawks at us as Oscar and Hael move around to climb in on the driver's side, but she knows better than to say anything. Most students at this school would rather commit hara-kiri than call on Havoc; she has to know she's walking on thin ice.

“About all that shit you said about me being yours,” Hael starts, but I ignore him, leaning forward to push play on the stereo and starting up Lion by Hollywood Undead.

“Don't push it,” I tell him, melting back into the seat and closing my eyes.

I'm exhausted, but I could sleep for a thousand years and find no rest in it. No, I won't truly rest until every name on my list is crossed off in bloodred lipstick and buried.

“Her entire request is bullshit,” I grind out, sitting on top of one of the old picnic tables as I watch Fuller High kids pull into the drive-in across the railroad tracks. It's been a while since we visited the old grease pit, but I have to say, it feels good, sitting here surrounded by other rejects from Prescott High, like I'm exactly where I should be.

“That doesn't matter,” Vic says absently, leaning back on the table in a black wifebeater, his hair greased back like he thinks he's John Travolta or something. I'll never admit how handsome he looks like that; I'd rather die. “You know as well as anyone else that when someone calls Havoc, they set the terms, we set the price.”

Hael is sitting quietly across from us, head buried in his hands. His bloodred hair catches the light as he goes through what looks like a mourning process, like he's saying goodbye to life as he knows it. I'd ask how things could possibly get any worse than they are, but then, I know that rock-bottom is just an illusion. Fate is a cunt, and she will drill down into that stone beneath your feet and send you straight to hell first chance she gets.

What's worse than having a mentally ill mom, a murderer for a father, and a gang war on your hands?

That's right, adding a squalling infant birthed by a woman you hate.

“I've calculated the cost of her request already,” Oscar remarks, consulting his iPad like he always does. Wouldn't surprise me if he lubed up and fucked it, too. “A lifetime commitment from Hael would require a life in return; that's not something she's going to be willing to pay.”

A shiver chases over my skin as I bite into my burger, slowly licking the sauce off of my bottom lip as Aaron watches me. He does the same with his burger, and I almost smile. I mean, I would if Oscar hadn't just suggested that the price for Hael's fatherhood is murder.

“But?” Vic asks, closing his eyes against the sunshine, like he's in a world far, far away from here. Flicking my attention to Callum, I see him unloading his extra-large fry order onto a tray and dousing it in ketchup. He pauses just after he does that, staring down at the viscous red liquid like perhaps his mind is somewhere else, too. Maybe at the party, with Danny's blood staining the floor.

He notices me looking and hooks a cruel smile, flipping his hood up and hiding the golden shimmer of his blond hair. When he puts a long fry between his lips, it's not a particularly innocent move.

“It either means nothing or it means everything. We don’t have to talk about it. Just decide what it is that you want.”

I flick my attention back to Oscar.

“You assume there's a but involved,” Oscar says, smiling in a way that reminds me of cold graves and mausoleums with weeping angels. That thought soon devolves into one of us fucking in a graveyard, and I grit my teeth, wondering where the hell that came from. Another bite of my burger banishes the day-mare into oblivion.

“There's always a conjunction with you, Oscar,” Vic murmurs as I pick up my chocolate shake and take a sip.

“Well, in this case, you're right,” Oscar says, and I have to wonder if this isn't how the discussion of my price went down. “Tell her we want to own her—body, mind, and soul. She'll never accept.” I frown as I think about what Aaron and Vic told me, about how every letter of Havoc but the V wanted me gone, shipped off to Nantucket to work part-time at the ice cream parlor. My lip curls. “There is a but. We add in a condition that she have the fetus DNA tested at the earliest available opportunity. According to my research, Brittany should be about seventeen weeks along. That means conception would likely be on or around August twenty-ninth.”