It only takes them a few seconds to get out there.

“Are you alright?” Aaron asks me, just as breathless as I am. He pulls me into his arms and hugs me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“The police have Neil's video,” I say, glancing back to find Oscar watching me with stone-cold gray eyes. “And I have a plan for Sara Young. She wants to be a justice warrior for good? Fine. Let's start leaving her crumbs that she can follow. I know for a fact that Neil's brother and dad have gotten him out of a good dozen sticky situations by pulling strings. That, and I'd bet my life that his buddy at the morgue has seen things that would've landed Neil with the death penalty in court.”

“This is a dangerous route, Bernadette,” Victor warns me, moving a few steps down, so he can turn and look me in the face. “If you do this, there's no going back. There could be a trial; you might have to testify. Is this really what you want?”

“We can and will take care of Sara Young on our own,” Oscar says, keeping his distance from me. “As you've seen, there are ways to make people disappear for good.”

“No.” I close my eyes and relax back into Aaron's strong embrace. “This is what I want. If Sara Young isn't a bad person; if she truly believes in justice. Well, here's her chance to prove that to me.”

“This is a different game than we've played before,” Cal remarks, pushing his hood back, so I can see his blond hair. He turns to look at me and lets a genuine smile take over his pretty mouth. “I like it. Let's give it a shot.”

“And hey, we still have plenty of other people that need disappearing,” Hael says with a sharp laugh. “Speaking of, why don't you tell Bernie the plan you just came up with for Wednesday night?”

I glance back at Vic and he grins, reaching up to brush his thumb across my lower lip.

“Oh yes. I think you'll be pleased, my queen. Let's get the fuck out of here and gear up. We have work to do.”

Oscar has a drawing on his iPad that connects each player in this game to one another. I see David Benedict’s name on there with a question mark, his bubble stuck between me and Kali. The Thing is floating off to one side, also attached to me and Kali.

“If your stepfather was involved somehow in the Vincents' scheme, all of this would make sense,” Oscar tells me, using the stylus to trace the line between Neil and Coraleigh. “Digging into DHS' records for this time period, I see nothing about you and Penelope and Heather being sent to the Kushners.”

I look up at him, trying to push back our romantic issues so I can focus on business.

I'll be the first to admit that it's hard.

As much as I hate him, as much as I truly wish I could stab his balls with a very sharp fork, I know what my real issue is here. I want him to fucking love me. That's all I've ever wanted. Life did not give me a mother to love me; life took the father who was supposed to love me. My sister was stolen away in the night by the cruel hands of a greedy monster.

And so I was left with the obsession of a group of very bad boys instead.

Whether it's healthy or not, I don't care. I just want Havoc to love me the way I love them. That's what it all boils down to.

“I called Neil and Pam into child protective services,” I say, trying to puzzle my way through this. CPS is a division of DHS—the Department of Human Services—which Leigh is now the director of. “There should be something on file, right?”

“Unless someone scrubbed it,” Oscar explains, sitting across from me on the couch where we made love. His ass is quite literally sitting atop what's left of the pinkish stain, but he makes no mention of it nor does he act like he notices or even remembers. I resist the urge to kick him under the coffee table. “You've said before that Neil prevented you and your sister from reaching out before about your abuse. But this one time, just this once, your complaints were listened to and you were placed in foster care. Why do you think that is?” Oscar taps his stylus against his lips. He's wearing a different pair of glasses. They're black and white checkered, like a racing flag. I'm surprised to see so much personality in his eyewear, to be quite honest with you.

I try not to read into that, assuming that it's the only spare pair he has around.

“Because Neil let it happen …” I start, trailing off and feeling my breathing quicken as panic takes over me. I walked myself and Pen and Heather into a fucking trap, didn't I? Why has this never occurred to me before? I mean, it's a lot to expect an eleven-year-old to make these sorts of connections, but now that I'm looking at Oscar's flow-chart, I'm fucking terrified.

What have we just stumbled onto here?

“Neil let it happen,” Victor agrees, pacing the floor in front of the fireplace and rubbing at his chin while chain smoking. It's pretty goddamn impressive, but also scary. That means he's both thoughtful and nervous, all at the same time. “He knew what was going to happen to you there. He probably worked with Coraleigh to arrange it. Based on her track record, she only sells girls and boys that have no family, that won't be missed, not the children of a motherfucking cop. Neil would've had to know about it. It's impossible to assume otherwise.”

Oscar looks up at me, taking in the expression on my face before returning his stern gaze to the screen of the iPad.

“So, we have Neil connected to Leigh, who is connected to Ophelia, who is connected to the Charter Crew.” Oscar sets the stylus down and leans back, putting his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers together. “After thinking it over, I've decided your explanation about David and Kali holds some merit.”

“Oh, you've decided that, have you?” I quip back, feeling my skin prickle with irritation. Aaron sits in the chair to my left, watching me with a gaze that's so intense that I'm afraid to meet it. I can't fall into the endless black hole of my emotions, not today. “It makes sense. Mack is picking Kali up so she can meet with David who's feeding info back to Tom and Ophelia. That's the gist of it.”

“And Ophelia is getting tired of waiting for Mitch to make headway with us,” Victor continues, picking up the thread. “She's hired some real help and filtered them in through the Charter Crew to hide her own involvement.”

“She's going to have Bernadette executed,” Callum says, drawing my attention around to look at him and Hael, situated at the table together. Cal taps his blue-painted nails against the wood surface of it as he stares at me, hood up, face shadowed. “Then she's going to use the Charter Crew to pick the rest of us off until only Victor is left. At that point, it wouldn't be difficult to pin something on him and get him charged with a felony. Then that's it. Game over.”

“According to the rules of the trust my grandmother set up,” Vic begins, pausing with one hand on the mantle, the other holding his cigarette as he stares at the wall in front of him, the gears in his mind turning over Callum's theory. “If I fail to graduate, I still have until I'm twenty-five to get my GED. If something happens to my father, and I can't live with him anymore, I'm allowed to find my own place. Those aren't great avenues for her to use to get the money. Killing Bernadette … she knows me too well. A fake marriage is never going to happen; I'd rather die.”

He grits his teeth and rubs his right hand over his face.

“We made a mistake in letting you marry Bernadette,” Oscar says, but not unsympathetically. “Didn't we?”

“I think so,” Victor agrees, closing his eyes for a moment. “Fuck.” He bends down into a crouch, still holding his cigarette.

It occurs to me then that the Havoc Boys are human.

Like, I knew that. I knew they were just teenagers who were forged in fire and really goddamn good at what they do. But they are not perfect. They are fallible. They make mistakes.

“That's what I should've done, married a patsy,” he murmurs quietly. “But I guess I underestimated Ophelia.”

“The mistake we made was in assuming she had no capital left,” Oscar says, exhaling sharply. “Or an easy method of obtaining more. She's essentially hired a small army to supplement the Charter Crew.”

“So what's the plan?” I ask, wishing Victor would stand up, that he'd flash a grin at me and say I got this, princess. As if he can sense my thoughts, he rises to his feet and turns around, sighing as he smokes his cigarette.

“We need to clean up the Charter Crew. I already told you, I don't like killing kids because it draws attention. But right now, we're stuck between a rock and a hard place.” Victor's face tightens up as he looks back at me. “But I won't let my love for you get you killed, Bernie.” He cracks his knuckles and clenches his jaw, glancing over at Aaron like there's something he wants to say but isn't ready to just yet. “It's time to drop some bodies. I know caution is our game, but we've gotta move on them before they move on us. On Wednesday, we're painting the streets with blood. And then, when I get the chance, I'm going to hang my mother from the rafters of Tom's fancy house.”

Victor takes off for the front door and lets himself out, slamming it behind him. I'm sure he doesn't go far; it'd be too dangerous for him to leave. But I can also tell he needs some space.

“Do you want to say it or should I?” Hael pipes up, and I glance back to see that he's looking at Aaron. Hael smiles, but it isn't his usual sex-laden smirk. Instead, he looks almost sad.

“Say what?” Aaron quips back, but he looks supremely fucking irritated. Personally, I'm still reeling from the day's events. Can't wait to see what pretty little Sara Young thinks about that awful video.

Hael stands up and makes his way over to the couch, resting his hands on the back of it as he leans over. His face is dead-serious, more so than I've ever seen before.

“That you were right.” Hael taps his palms against the couch and stands back up again. “You and Oscar. You've always been the most adamant about putting distance between us and Bernie. Well, here's your worst nightmare come true.”