Which means … nothing has happened in the last several hours that I’ve been asleep.

“This is from Ophelia, I’m sure of it,” Vic says, looking inside the envelope at what appears to be an invitation. He reads it over and then tosses it to me.

“How do you know that?” I ask, frowning at the small piece of cardstock. It’s lightly scented with perfume, a single purple petal still stuck to it. It reminds me of the ridiculous bridal shower invitations on the movie Bridesmaids, the ones with the live butterfly that flitters out. So over the top. “This is an invitation to an art show at a gallery in Oak Park.”

“And violets were my grandmother’s favorite flowers,” Vic says, crushing the petals with his boots. He points at the invitation, eyes blazing with dark fury. “This is from Ophelia. And it’s for Sunday evening. I don’t like that. I don’t like the timing of this shit at all.” Victor clenches his teeth and then flicks his attention over to Callum. “Call Hael and Oscar and tell them to get their asses back here.”

“Why?” I ask, looking up from the invitation in a panic. “We can’t stop the search.”

“We’re not,” Vic reassures me, putting a hand on my shoulder and looking me in the eyes. “We’re redirecting it. My mother never does anything on a whim. If she sent this invite, it’s for a reason.” He releases me and takes off down the hall to get dressed while I stand there in a sea of purple petals and the sweet scent of violets, missing Aaron and wishing Ophelia a nest of murder hornets in her perfect fucking hair.

If she has Aaron, Victor won’t get a chance to kill his mother.

Because I’ll do it. And I’ll do it with a smile on my motherfucking face.

Aaron Fadler

The next time I open my eyes, I’m in a large bedroom with soaring ceilings and log walls. The bed I’m lying on has a buffalo plaid canopy to go with the over-the-top rustic décor that seems to permeate the rest of the place. It’s very clearly an expensive house with expensive things, but I have a very hard time imagining that it belongs to Ophelia. More likely, it’s Tom’s.

Kali is sitting on the edge of the bed next to me, staring at the door like she’s expecting company. She doesn’t know I’m awake until I try to move, and the handcuffs on my wrists jangle. Her gaze flicks back to me, and she smiles. It’s not a tight smile either, or one full of hate. Instead, it’s almost disturbingly genuine. Of course, it looks grotesque with her swollen lips. I only wish we’d thought to sew her mouth shut before Stacy Langford did.

I remember Bernadette’s concern about Kali, about how she stared at us in the hallway that day. She told me that she thought Kali was obsessed with me. At the time, I thought it sounded fairly ridiculous. But sitting here now? I’m not so sure that Bernie wasn’t right.

“You’re awake,” she says, as if she was hoping that might be the case. “I was wondering how long you’d be out for.” Kali leans forward and strokes some of the hair from my forehead, frowning when I wince and try to turn my head away. “I can’t believe Tom hit you like that. There was no need for it.”

“Kali,” I start, my throat dry, my words husky. I would love a drink of water right about now, but I’m not about to ask this crazy bitch for anything. “What am I doing here?” She shrugs and turns away from me, still focused on the bedroom door.

“Ophelia can use you as a pawn to get Victor to do whatever she wants. I think she’s planning on asking him to commit a crime in plain sight, like so he can be charged for it and lose out on the trust that way.” Kali glances back at me, tucking green and black hair behind one of her ears. Her diamond-studded hoop earring sways with the motion. I’ve seen her wear those particular earrings before, but I just always assumed they were fake. Now I’m starting to wonder if they weren’t a gift from Ophelia. “Personally, I think we should just kill Bernadette.”

My jaw clenches, but I resist the urge to freak out on her. That’s not going to get me what I want. Instead, I wonder if I can’t play to her eccentricities? I mean, she clearly likes me; she wants to be a part of Havoc. I can see all of that written into her face. There must be some way to manipulate her into letting me go.

“Why kill her? If Ophelia can get Victor to do what you said, then there’s no point. She’ll get her money the easy way, no murder necessary, no loose ends to worry about.” Of course, neither Ophelia nor Kali know Vic very well. He’s not an idiot; he would know that complying with his mother’s demands would do nothing to actually guarantee that I’d be set free at any point. Likely, she’d kill me as soon as he did what she asked.

There aren’t a lot of ways for me to win in this game.

Kali looks back at me with a tight smile on her pink painted lips.

“Afterward, I want Ophelia to give you to me,” she says, and I have to seriously use every ounce of willpower I have to keep from making a face. Give me to you? I’ve only ever belonged to Bernadette; Ophelia has no power to gift me to you in any way. “I don’t know if she will though. We’ll see, I guess.”

Kali stops talking as the sound of a door opening and closing echoes through the house. There’s the heavy sound of footsteps and then Mitch Charter is standing in the doorway to the bedroom, dark hair shaved close to his skull, jaw working in frustration. As soon as he sees me, his eyes bulge out of his fucking head.

“What the hell?” he asks, storming over to stand beside Kali. “Where the fuck did he come from?”

“I found him in the woods after he tried to escape,” Kali purrs, and my body ripples with goose bumps. Mitch is looking down at me like he’d every much enjoy skinning me alive.

“You cocksucking piece of shit,” he growls, looking me up and down like he’s trying to decide what to cut first. “That blond psychopath of yours killed four of my boys and blew Timmy to kingdom motherfucking come. Not to mention, my car is trashed. Nice try though. You fuckers messed up.” Mitch starts to smile as he takes a step closer to me, ignoring the way Kali’s body tenses up.

He pauses at the sound of more footsteps, and Ophelia and Tom enter the room next. The former doesn’t look pleased to see Mitch here.

“Mitch Charter,” she says, opening a sparkly handbag that matches her blue dress.

“Yeah?” he asks, turning around to look at Victor’s mother. Guess we were right when we figured Ophelia was responsible for all of the shit with the Charter Crew.

“I’m sorry to say, but I’m going to have to let you go.” Ophelia rummages around in her bag as Mitch gapes at her.

“The fuck? I’ve been working my ass off for—” He doesn’t get to finish that sentence because Ophelia pulls a small caliber handgun fitted with a silencer from her bag and shoots Mitch in the forehead. Nobody in that room seems surprised as blood flecks Ophelia’s pale face, and Mitch’s body slumps to the floor.

There’s no exit wound since the bullet is so small. Some people think that makes a weapon less effective. Not necessarily true. If the bullet is small enough, it just bounces around inside of you and fucks you up good. Looks like that’s what just happened to Mitch.

Kali doesn’t seem at all bothered to see her boyfriend lying dead on the floor at her feet. Even Tom looks bored by the situation.

“Get this cleaned up,” Ophelia orders, putting the gun away, and then gesturing at Mitch’s body with her purse. There isn’t a ton of blood, but it is leaking from his head to stain the rustic wood floor planks. “I have a dinner party tonight, so I won’t be here. I assume you’re staying?” She removes a white handkerchief from her bag and then dabs at the blood on her face, wiping it clean.

“I’d like to attend the dance,” Kali hazards, shrugging her shoulders. “But somebody has to watch Aaron.”

“You don’t need to go to the dance,” Ophelia corrects, adjusting her attention to me. “If you’re right about Aaron, then we no longer have any use for Bernadette.” She turns to leave, as if the conversation is over, but Kali stands up, following a few steps before Ophelia glances back at her with an annoyed expression on her pretty face. Tom just follows along like the pet dog he so very clearly is.

“We can still kill her,” Kali argues, gesturing with her pink acrylics. “Double down, make sure you get the money.” Ophelia doesn’t seem convinced, nor does she look like she wants to have an argument with someone she considers an underling.

“My darling, listen up. When you get older, you’ll understand that the quickest route between two points is a straight line. I don’t need to kill that girl and have my son start hunting me in the dark. I’ll do it, if I have to, but I like your idea of using Aaron instead. Let’s stick with the plan, shall we?” She turns away, ignoring Kali’s protests, and I hear the creaking of stairs shortly after, followed by the front door. Somewhere outside, an engine turns over and the sound of tires on gravel drifts up and over to me.

Mitch is still lying on the floor, bleeding everywhere, while Kali stares after Ophelia with a deep-set frown on her face. She looks back down at Mitch and sighs.

“God, this fucking sucks,” she grumbles, bending down to grab his arm. In heels and booty-shorts, Kali starts to drag the dead boy toward the door and into the hallway. A few short minutes later, and I can hear the awful sound of something tumbling down the stairs.

Son of a bitch.

This is not looking good for me, not at all.

I close my eyes and test out the bindings on my arms and legs, but there’s no give, none at all.

If I’m going to get out of here, I’m going to have to use Kali’s obsession with me to do it.

Hael Harbin

Bernadette looks positively miserable as she steps into the living room in the flouncy pink cocktail dress we stole from downtown Fuller. The top part is made of lace, and it’s almost entirely see-through save for some sparkly appliques over the pale mounds of her breasts.