“You're going to perform the same way you make the girls do. Whatever the psychos watching this video ask for, you're going to do. Do you understand?”

Vaughn is openly bawling now, but nobody in that cabin cares.

“We're going to live stream him?” I ask, and Cal nods.

“During live cam feeds, those watching can ask the girl to do certain things and pay in tips for the privilege to see her do it. So Vaughn's going to spend an hour learning what it's like.” Cal's mouth curves into a smile. “It's nice, isn't it? Hand-delivering karma.”

I don't know how to respond to that, so I turn back to watch the drama unfold in front of me.

As promised, for an entire hour, Vaughn does what the crazy fucks online demand of him. I can't watch most of it, so I let myself outside into the cool, night air. Cal joins me, and we sit on the rocking chairs on the porch in silence.

“Aaron said the taste of vengeance wasn't so sweet as I thought it'd be, that it'd leave the taste of ash in my mouth,” I say finally, and Cal glances my way, his hood firmly fixed in place, legs folded on the chair in front of him. “But I don't taste ash. I don't taste anything at all, to be honest with you.”

“Mm.” Callum glances my way, studying me in the dark. “I felt that way, too, at first. Once you surrender to the dark, it gets easier.” He stands up suddenly, his body unfolding from that chair in such a graceful way that I find myself envious again. I've never been clumsy per se, but I've also never been particularly graceful either. Callum makes every movement he makes look like dance.

The front door opens and Aaron appears, limned in light from inside.

“We're done here,” he says, and only then do I notice the blood on his knuckles. He sees me looking and swipes them on his jeans like he's ashamed. Violence. It's what Havoc does, I'm not surprised at all. “If there's anything in the cabin you want, come get it.”

Cal heads inside, but I stay where I am. There's nothing in there I want; it's all tainted.

“You beat him up?” I ask, and Aaron shrugs.

“Not as bad as Don,” is the only response I get before Oscar appears, carrying the laptop and camera, probably to sell later. Principal Vaughn comes stumbling out next, naked, shaking, and spattered with blood. Hael shoves him in the back and he falls down the front steps.

“Go on, get the fuck out of here,” he says as the principal struggles to get to his feet. “Start running, and don't stop.” Hael glances my way and a strange expression crosses his face. “You don't want to know what'll happen if we find you.”

My entire body ripples with disgust, and I turn away.

“Let's light this baby up,” Hael continues, and I hear Vic grunt his agreement. The smell of gasoline stings my nostrils as Callum hooks a hose up to a water pump and turns it on, soaking the ground around the cabin. I guess they're looking to keep the fire contained?

“Come on,” Aaron says, and when I don't respond, he reaches out and grabs my hand.

A violent shiver overtakes me, and I tear my hand away from him, moving down the steps of my own accord and standing back while the rest of the boys douse the place.

“Burn it fucking down,” Vic commands as we gather near the minivan, and Cal steps forward with an old-fashioned lighter in his hand, flicking it on and then tossing it onto the front steps.

Flames sweep over the cabin and consume it, leaving nothing but ash in their wake.

Two years earlier …

Everything I own is lying in a heap in the backyard. I'm the only person home at the moment, standing with one hand on the edge of the sliding glass door, my eyes focused on the admittedly small mountain of clothing, books, and furniture tossed haphazardly on the gravel-covered area near the old shed.

“Boo.”

A voice surprises me from behind, and I jump, a strong arm banding around my waist and yanking me into a firm chest.

I know immediately who it is that's holding me there: Victor fucking Channing.

“What are you doing here?” I manage to whisper, fear a hot, wild thing inside my chest. But my body's a traitor because it's not just fear that I'm feeling, it's want. Need. An emotion I never thought I'd be able to associate with the Havoc Boys, not after what they did to me during pageant week.

Not when they ruined homecoming.

Not when they make me question every step I take.

They've turned Prescott High into a nightmare for me.

“We've decided to have a bonfire,” Vic says, his mouth too close to my ear. I stay stone-still, terrified of whatever it is he's got planned. That's when I see Aaron come around the corner of the house, a red gasoline can in one hand. He doesn't look at me as he moves up to the pile and drenches it in flammable liquid.

They're going to burn my stuff.

I can only pray they're not going to burn me, too.

“Why are you doing this?” I whisper, but I've asked that question a hundred times, and I've never gotten an answer. Victor just laughs softly and releases me. I stumble away from him as Oscar, Callum, and Hael join Aaron in the yard.

It's Vic, though, who pulls a lighter from his pocket and approaches the pile.

I don't have a lot in life, barely anything, and what I do have, I've worked hard for. I can see my new heels for the winter formal in that pile, the ones I worked two shitty jobs for. They're propped up next to a shoebox full of old pictures, pictures of a dad I didn’t get to keep, of me and Pen as babies, of a life that didn't suck quite so bad as this one does.

The leader of the Havoc Boys doesn't skip a beat when he leans over and sets my entire life on fire, the flames catching and licking across the pile in seconds. I just slide to the floor and sit there on my knees watching, waiting, wondering.

Why? Why me?

All I ever wanted was to be one of them.

All I ever wanted was to belong.

But that need, that desire, like so many others, is and will always be a worthless pipe dream; the taste of it is bitter ash on my tongue.

I must fall asleep in the van because I don't remember much between climbing into the car and waking up in Aaron's bed. His familiar smell surrounds me, like rose and sandalwood, and I have to fight back the wave of strong memories.

I lost my virginity in this bed.

Aaron said he loved me in this bed.

I frown and shove the covers off, climbing out of the bed and swiping my hands over my face. My phone is lying on the nightstand, the screen still off, whatever angry words my mother might want to say hidden within.

I leave it there as I stand up and grab my backpack from the floor near the door, pulling out my change of clothes before I creep down the hall to check on Heather. She's passed out, curled up on an air mattress that just barely fits between Kara's and Ashley's beds.

A sigh of relief escapes me as I lean my shoulder against the doorjamb and watch the three of them sleeping. The first real smile I've given in weeks takes over my mouth, and I feel this unsettling sense of contentment.

I could live a life like this, getting up early in a house that's free of hate, showering, making breakfast for the girls … But I don't let myself hope for it. Hopes, wants, dreams, they can all be destroyed in the span of a single exhale. A ragged inhale. A surprised gasp.

Shaking my head, I push away from the wall and head for the bathroom. It must be early because I don't hear anyone else moving around in the house. Good. I smell like a campfire, and as much as I'm glad that Principal Vaughn got his last night, I also don't need a scented reminder of what happened.

The bathroom is free, thankfully, so I step in and lock it, stripping down and climbing in the scalding warmth of the shower. As I let the heat wash over me, I pretend like I'm scrubbing away all the bad memories, like soap and water can really heal an injured soul.

The sound of the door opening snaps me out of my daze, and I freeze. Did someone pick the lock? Callum could pretty easily if he wanted. Hell, what am I saying? Any of the Havoc Boys could.

Peeling back the curtain, I find Aaron yawning, his dick in his hand as he takes a piss.

“What are you doing in here?” I snap, and he jumps, missing his target, so to speak, and cursing violently under his breath. “Did you pick the lock?”

“No, fuck, no,” he grumbles, adjusting his aim as I stand there glaring, my anxious heartbeat shifting into a different rhythm, one that doesn't exactly add up to a guy taking a piss in front of me. But even though I'm naked and Aaron somehow breezed through the locked door, I'm not afraid of him. He wouldn't hurt me, I think automatically, but then my cynical mind starts to laugh when I remember.

Right.

He already did.

But … for what reason?

“I barely managed to keep the girls from ending up in foster care.”

“I'm waiting,” I say as he shakes off his cock and tucks it away, zipping his pants up and snatching a container of antiseptic wipes to clean up the mess. Wow. A seventeen-year-old guy covered in tattoos scrubbing up stray droplets of pee to keep a toilet clean? Unheard of. He even puts the toilet seat down when he's done, and I can't help but be thoroughly impressed.

“The lock on this door is broken. I've been meaning to fix it, but … life.” Aaron glances over at me, some of his wavy chestnut hair falling into his eyes. He flicks it away with inked fingers. “And I'm sorry. It's early, I'm tired. The girls take forever in the shower in the mornings, so we've worked out a system where I can sneak in and pee if I have to.” He scrubs a hand over his face.

“Don't you have a downstairs bathroom?” I ask, and he gives me this look with those green-gold eyes of his.

“It's occupied,” he says, narrowing his gaze even further. “We hide the weed in there.”

“The weed?” I ask, imagining, like, a small baggy full of the green stuff.

“Yeah,” Aaron says, sounding tired. “We have some people that grow for us, and then they pass it over for drying. I don't want the girls to know what we do, so we hide it in there and keep the door locked.”