His mouth twitches, and he reaches up a big hand, using inked fingers to tuck pink-tinged hair behind my ear.

“My beautiful nightmare,” he confirms, running his thumb over my lower lip. “After we get married, I’m not sharing you. Get your fucking out of the way before then.” Vic drops his hand by his side, and I frown. I’m not sure I agree with that statement, but I also feel like I can’t possibly say anything, not right now. He’ll throw a man-trum and break the magic of the evening.

“Do you want to take these pregnancy tests with me?” I ask, choking on the courage needed to say those words. “I mean, while we wait for Hael to call us and say he’s still alive.”

Vic’s face darkens up, but it’s not without kindness.

“Pregnancy tests?” he asks, almost too mildly. My skin erupts in goose bumps. Those syllables spilling from those poison-tinged lips of his, they’re loaded. “I didn’t know you’d bought any.”

“Well,” I start, giving him a look. “You keep fucking me without using one. What did you expect to happen?” Victor smiles slightly as I move over to the brown paper bag on the small sofa table that’s pressed up against the wall. I take the boxes from it and pop into the downstairs bathroom, reading the instructions as Victor watches me from the doorway.

There’s a nightlight in the little downstairs half-bath, shaped like a full moon with little grayed out spots that are supposed to be craters. It’s cute, and it casts enough light for me to take a piss and set the stupid white sticks out on the counter.

I fix my pants, wash my hands, and then cross my arms over my chest to wait.

“They only take a few minutes, Bern,” Vic says after a while, watching me with heavy lidded eyes. He’d probably love it if I were pregnant. He doesn’t say as much, but it’d be impossible to miss, with the expression on his face.

“You check them,” I tell him, but when he reaches out a hand to grab one, I snatch his wrist, fingers curling around him and squeezing tight. I wonder if Brittany felt like this when she was taking the test, if she wished Hael were there.

Shit.

I feel like an asshole and yet, the world has only ever treated me like shit. I’ve tried to do things the right way, I really have. And how have I been rewarded for it? With molestation, suicide, and pain. That’s how.

So … fuck Brittany. And fuck Kali.

I snatch one of the tests off the counter and close my eyes tight. I can feel Victor watching me carefully, waiting with that intense and unending patience of his.

When I open my eyes, I see the words Not Pregnant and my breath escapes in a rush.

“I see I’ve failed to fuck you hard enough,” is Vic’s response. I lift my eyes up from the test to glare at him. It feels suddenly weird to have him standing here, like the air between us is too thick. I’ve literally just fucked his best friend on the hood of his Camaro, in the driveway of a tame, suburban neighborhood. How weird is my goddamn life right now?

“You’d love it if I got knocked up,” I say, eyes narrowed, but Vic just shrugs.

“Maybe I would? But either way, it’s your choice to decide when.” He turns away, and I bristle at the arrogance in his words. It’s my choice to decide when?

“You mean, it’s my choice to decide if I want to be with you before I even settle the question of if I want to have kids at all. Besides, even if I did, what sort of life would this be? The world rewards the rich. We … just moved a body today. You can’t do that sort of shit if you have kids.”

“Once we get my grandmother’s inheritance,” he says, pausing to study a framed picture of Kara and Ashley on one of the side tables. It’s a newer picture, meaning Aaron must’ve put it there. Hah. Aaron Fadler and his domestic shit. It’s almost … cute. I nearly gag on the thought. “Things will be different.”

“Will they?” I ask, some of my skepticism from the last few months fading from me. Do I really think Vic is going to give me an equal share of that inheritance? Kind of … I mean, we’ll be legally married, so it’ll be mine anyway, whether he likes it or not. The thought warms me immensely. I play with the ring on my finger as I follow him down the hall and toward the master bedroom.

Victor pauses near the hallway, glancing back to look at me with obsidian eyes. He’s so impossible to read, and yet … painfully obvious at the same time. I never quite know what he’s thinking, but his wants are apparent.

Me.

I’m what Victor Channing wants.

Maybe something he’s always wanted, based on our conversation the day after Halloween.

“That much, I promise. We’re going to rule this city together, Bernadette. You and me, king and queen.” He turns away and keeps going, like he’s expecting me to follow him. I just might; I haven’t decided yet.

“I'll have no other girl,” I tell Vic, and he pauses. His back is broad beneath the dark-colored tee he’s wearing, his tattoos bright against his arms. He doesn’t look back at me, but I know he’s listening, regardless. “In Havoc, I mean. I don’t care about all the peons you managed to rope into working for you.” Victor laughs, but still, he doesn’t turn around. I wonder why? “But not … like we are now, the six of us.”

“For me, at least,” Vic starts, lifting up his right hand. I glance up to the top of the staircase and find Aaron looking down at me. I think he’s trying to say us. For us at least … “There was never another girl. Enjoy your time as a free woman because I’m counting down the nights until I fuck that wedding dress off of you.”

Victor heads into the downstairs bedroom and slams the door behind him.

I glance up at Aaron.

“It’s not fair, you know,” I tell him, frowning. “That he gets your parents’ old room, and you’re stuck living in memories of your childhood.”

“It’s fair,” Aaron says, shrugging his big shoulders. “Because he’s the boss.” His eyes darken several shades and he starts down the steps. It gets suddenly hard to breathe in that room, and my eyes stray to the Bernadette tattoo on his arm yet again.

“Watch a movie with me until Hael calls?” I ask, and Aaron nods.

We end up cuddled together on the sofa, just like in the old days, watching a horror movie that’s essentially murder porn. It seems like a weird choice, but all the bodies and the blood, I know they’re all fake. Makes it easier to pretend that what I saw earlier today was fake, too.

After several hours and two movies later, Hael finally comes crawling home.

He’s got a black eye, red smeared across the lower half of his face, like maybe he got a nosebleed and swiped the blood away with his arm.

“What the fuck, man? You were supposed to call,” Aaron snaps, standing up from the couch and knocking stray kernels of popcorn everywhere.

“We have a problem,” Hael says, panting heavily, his forehead dotted with sweat.

“What is it?” Vic asks, making me jump as he appears out of freaking nowhere.

“Ivy Hightower is dead,” Hael says, surprising the shit out of me. I sit up suddenly, upending the bowl of popcorn to the floor.

“Where is she?” Vic snaps, which is a strange question to ask, if you really think about it. But then, he knows this game a hell of a lot better than I do.

“Outside,” Hael says, his mouth turned down in a severe frown. “On the front lawn.”

“Well, fuck me,” Vic growls, and then he, Aaron, and Hael are moving in unison, like a murder of crows. Perfectly aligned. Perfectly in sync. As it often did when I was in junior high, my heart thunders at the sight, and my mouth waters with the need to belong.

I join them.

And there she is, pale body stretched across the grass like she’s sleeping. Obviously, Ivy hasn’t been dead as long as Danny, so she can still fake it. Life, that is. At least from a distance.

“We just saw her in the hallway today,” I manage to get out, anxiety flooding my body with adrenaline. It’s interesting, isn’t it, how perceptions and needs can shift with time? I’m worried about the boys getting caught, more than anything. What if that douchebag detective Constantine were to drive by? What if the Thing were to cruise up in his Dodge Charger?

Shit.

Oscar and Callum join us. One from inside the house, the other from the shadows. The fuck was Cal doing out here? Nobody else seems to care, so I figure he must’ve been on watch or something. I’ll tell you one thing: I would not like to find Callum Park crouching in the darkness, waiting for me.

“Grab the tarps and gloves,” Oscar says, yawning. He’s dressed in black satin pajama pants, hung criminally low on his hips and showing off all those pretty tattoos of his. Even though it’s obvious he’s just woken up out of sleep, not a hair is out of place. His glasses are clean. Oh, and he’s still a goddamn asshole. “Bernadette, are you deaf? Move your ass and get the tarps and gloves,” he snaps, and I scowl at him.

If this were a different time and place …

But a group is only as tough as its weakest link, and let’s be honest here: I’m flagging.

I move into the house, glad that the girls are long past the point of waking up for the night, and grab the extra tarps from a plastic bag near the front door. There are dozens of them, and I can’t help but wonder if the guys keep them on hand, like paper towels or some shit.

Heading back out into the dewy grass, I pass the tarps to Callum.

“You look rough, my friend,” he whispers to Hael as they unwrap one of the tarps with freshly gloved hands. “What happened?”

“What do you think happened? Brittany’s dad is the head of the anti-gang force. He’s a cop with an extra dose of asshole attached to his title. He beat the snot out of me and then threatened to press rape charges. You like that one?”

“I oughta box your fucking ears for getting us into this shit,” Vic snarls, and Hael’s entire face flushes with shame. He grits his teeth as he helps Cal roll the body of our dead classmate onto the tarp. Second time we’ve done that today.