“I’ve screwed myself, haven’t I?” he whispers, shaking all over. But all I can think is you did it to save me. I move over to Callum and put my hand on his arm. He stiffens up, but he doesn’t push me away.

“It was self-defense,” I say, and then pause. “Well, defense of me anyway. He was going to shoot me, and I don’t think he cared where that bullet hit. It didn’t look like a warning shot to me.”

“We should’ve made her wear the fucking Kevlar,” Aaron grinds out, giving Vic a look.

“A vest wouldn’t have protected her head,” Vic replies calmly, sighing and swiping a hand over his face. “Okay, we can deal with this. Aaron,” he says, and my ex raises his head a bit, looking like death warmed-up. “Take Bernadette back to your place.” Aaron manages a nod as Hael helps him to his feet. I cling to Cal’s arm, shaking from the rush of adrenaline, marveling at the fact that I almost died here tonight.

I’ve been waiting for death for a long time, almost praying for it. But now that I’ve gotten a glimpse, I’m not so sure I like what I see.

Before I get a chance to delve too far into the darkness of my thoughts, Vic is grabbing me and putting his arms around me, hugging me so close that I can smell the musk and amber scent of him, even through the sharp copper smell of blood.

“It’ll be okay,” he tells me, and maybe he even believes it. I want to have faith in Havoc, but holy shit. This is so much more than turf wars between rival high schools. This is some real-life shit with real-life consequences. “Go home, clean up, and we’ll meet you there later.”

“What are you going to do?” I ask, but Vic just purses his lips.

“Later,” he tells me, gesturing in the direction of the cold draft from the now open back door. His makeup is smeared, giving it an even ghastlier sort of look. “Now get the hell out of here and drive fast.”

Aaron doesn’t speak as he drives us back into town, taking the dark roads at an almost alarming speed, and then slowing down when we hit the edge of Springfield. Getting pulled over right now would not go well for us. That is, if we couldn’t convince the cops that all of this blood was fake.

We left the limo behind, grabbing an SUV out back that the boys had planted there as a getaway car. When they did that, I’m not sure, but it’s quite clear that they had a lot of things planned for tonight.

I just don’t think they intended for Danny Ensbrook to die.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asks me when we hit the quiet suburban streets near his house. “I mean, obviously not, but …”

“I’m fine,” I say, because I know what he means. Am I broken? Am I shattered? Am I scared? But I’m none of those things because those things were stripped out of me a long time ago. I’m amped up on adrenaline and nerves, and I’m worried about Cal, but that’s about it. What happened to Danny Ensbrook … that shit was deserved.

Still, I don’t want the boys to get in trouble, to go to prison.

I swipe both hands down my face and then drop them into my lap. Aaron’s driving one-handed, his left arm resting in his own lap. I’m tempted to reach out and take his hand, but then what would I say? There are no words.

I turn back to face the windshield as we turn the corner.

The first thing I notice is that there’s a second car parked in Aaron’s driveway, next to the minivan. The second thing I notice is that the car is a police cruiser.

The third thing …

My throat closes up, and I feel the very first edges of panic rolling through me.

“What the fuck?” Aaron snaps, raking his fingers through his hair. He makes a split-second decision and pulls the SUV over, calling up Jennifer Lowell’s number and waiting for her to answer. When she doesn’t, he curses and sends a text, waiting several minutes before shoving his phone into his pocket. That’s when he notices the look on my face. “What?” he asks, his voice laced with panic. The girls are in there—our girls are in there. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Worse,” I choke out, fisting my fingers in the bloodied skirts of my cheerleading uniform. I’d recognize that police cruiser anywhere. “My stepdad.”

Aaron whips his head back around and then guns it, parking next to Vic’s motorcycle on the curb and climbing out. We should probably clean up before we go in there, but all I can think about is Heather, Kara, and Ashley in the same room as that pedophile fuck.

We burst through the front door and find the Thing sitting on the couch with a girl by his side.

But not one of our girls.

No, it’s the infamous Kali Rose-Kennedy that stares back at me.

And standing in front of the fireplace, bags under his eyes and hair disheveled, is none other than Principal Vaughn.

“Hello, Bernadette,” the Thing says, dark eyes sparkling. “Take a seat, and let’s talk.”

To Be Continued …