Hael starts to strum the guitar, and I have to hide my surprise. I vaguely recall that he was in a band during the first half of freshman year, but that’s about all that I know. When he starts to sing … well, you could’ve knocked my ass over with a feather.
Fuck, but not in front of Kali. My eyes flick back to find her watching me as the music blasts through the speakers, killing the eardrums of the crowd, drawing their attention to the stage. Everybody wants to see the first letter of Havoc sing while they snort coke and down a staggering amount of alcohol. The Oak Valley kids have really outdone themselves this year.
“Thank you for admitting that,” I tell Kali as the guys do their thing, redirecting the crowd like a flock of songbirds being chased by a hawk. My boys have sharp beaks, don’t they? “I’ll feel a lot less guilty when I finally gut you.”
“You wouldn’t,” Kali says, dancing back a few steps. I notice then that Kyler’s gone, but I don’t care about him. He isn’t going to live to see the end of the night. Both exciting and scary. The Charter Crew will be hamstrung, little more than scattered teenage thugs. Unfortunately, that also means a good half-dozen missing and deceased Prescott kids.
Somebody will notice. Sara Young will notice. Detective Constantine will notice.
But it has to be done. Time to clean house.
“Wouldn’t I?” I echo, cocking my head to one side. I’m still holding the gun at my side, but Kali’s not paying it much attention. She thinks she has me pegged. “I’m a vastly different girl from the one you fucked over. The girl you stole from. The girl you lied to. Kali Rose, you’ve done a damn good job of playing the victim in the past, but guess what? The truth always comes out. And look around. There’s nobody left to fight your battles for you anymore. It’s over.”
“I’m pregnant, Bernie,” she says, smiling and putting a hand over her still nearly-flat tummy. “And the baby that I’m carrying is Heather’s little brother or sister. Would you really do that to her? Deny her the chance to get to know a future sibling?”
“Where is Aaron?” I ask, because even if Kali is telling the truth—the girl is a born-again liar—it doesn’t matter. Whatever it is that she’s done with Aaron, she’s taken it too far. You do not touch my family and walk away. Ask Neil Pence, buried in a shallow grave and left to suffocate alone in the dark. “If you tell me, I’ll make this easier on you. A clean shot to the head, that’s all I can promise.”
Kali laughs again, like this is some sort of game, like she’s immune to becoming another Danny Ensbrook—a rotten, unwanted corpse, buried and forgotten.
“You know how boys can’t help getting hard sometimes?” Kali asks innocently, and I swear to fuck, my vision washes in red, like my eyes are filled with blood. She lifts her dark gaze up to mine, and I have to hold back a rush of nausea. “Goddamn, he dicked me good.”
Stepping forward, I swing the gun at Kali’s head and end up hitting her in the face with it. A good pistol-whip, like Neil gave to poor Ms. Keating. This time though, the roles are reversed. I’m nowhere near as good a ‘good guy’ as our vice principal, but I’m most certainly a step up from Kali Rose-Kennedy.
She staggers back, but she isn’t surprised. Nor is she unprepared. She slips a pistol out of the sparkly gold purse on her shoulder and levels it on me.
“Tit for tat, bitch,” she tells me, and then she backs up toward the edge of the road, where the trees meet the pavement. “Thanks for letting me fuck and kill your boy tonight.” Kali turns and darts into the woods, even as I take a shot at her. I shouldn’t, but I do.
Bark explodes, raining shrapnel down on the road. There’s a macabre sort of beauty to it as it catches the light from the headlights of the idling cars.
As soon as it hits the ground, it’s like a lever’s been pulled. I’ve been released into the wild. Kicking my heels off, I take off after Kali. I’m not thinking clearly, but at least I have the Havoc Boys to rein my ass in.
“Bernie,” Vic hisses, grabbing onto my arm and stopping me short. His breath stirs my hair, and my body reacts to his like it’s been lit on fire. I inhale sharply as my heart thumps and slams into my rib cage, breaking bones. Victor owns that, my skeleton, I mean. He owns my blood and my bones and my entire motherfucking dark-ass soul. “Kali’s baiting you into the woods for a reason. You think that weak-ass little bitch really wants to have a showdown with you in the dark? Nah.”
He yanks me close and I growl back at him. Like I said, time to hunt, not time to mate.
“There’s a trap laid here somewhere that we’re missing,” Oscar says, stepping up beside us. I notice that his tie is loose, his hand holding his revolver by his side. Hael is still onstage, but Callum is nowhere to be seen.
If I had to hazard a guess, he’s creeping through the dark after Kyler.
“Definitely,” Vic agrees, a deep frown creasing his beautiful mouth. “I think we should leave. Now. It was a mistake to come here.”
“I have to get Kali,” I stress, feeling my voice crack. My mind is broken. What are they even saying? A mistake? A trap? “Kali just admitted that she raped Aaron.” The words feel hollow and strange scraping past my lips. It’s rare as hell for a female to rape a male, but … if anyone were capable of it, it’d be Kali.
Victor grabs my face between his big hands, forcing me to look at him.
“We will get her, but we have to go.” He nods his chin at Oscar. “Get Hael and Callum,” he says, and then he lets go of me.
That’s when it happens.
A sharp pain against the side of my skull. It’s like … my head’s been shorn by a barber, but his buzzer is made of fire. My hand comes up to touch my hair, and there’s a lot of wet, hot crimson on my fingers.
I blink a few times before Vic knocks me to the ground and the woods flash by above me. I’m lying on my back, bleeding everywhere as he curses and parts my hair, the whites of his eyes bright in the headlights from the parked cars. Victor Channing is scared, I think absently, but then my eyes flick to the left and I see Callum in a black hoodie wrestling on the ground with a mountain of a man. No way that guy’s in high school.
Oh, and I bet he isn’t.
Hired thugs again? Ophelia must make a lot of money off those stolen, sex-trafficked little girls.
Callum rises to his feet, aims a weapon down at the man, and pulls the trigger. It’s a quick execution, far quicker than the man probably deserves. And then Cal turns, and his blue eyes flash silver in the moonlight.
He stiffens up, and then scrambles down the hill, appearing at our side in the span of a few blinks.
“She was shot,” Vic says, holding his hands on my head as he probes at the wound. I must be running on crazy amounts of adrenaline because I just slap at him as Cal joins him, a pair of wolves fawning over me like a cub.
“I’m just fine,” I murmur, but holy shitballs there’s a lot of blood. It’s hot on the side of my face, running down my neck, soaking my pretty pink dress. Looking down, I realize that my outfit has suddenly become a hell of a lot more appropriate. This is me. Bernadette Savannah Blackbird. Pretty in pink, but tainted by blood. “Let go of me.”
“It’s a head wound; there’s bound to be a lot of blood,” Callum murmurs as Oscar circles around us, revolver at the ready. Nobody else has noticed that I’ve been shot. Hael is still singing; the crowd is still bouncing. Seems like my shooter had a silencer on his rifle. “But she’s right: she’s okay. The bullet just grazed her.”
“Thanks to you,” Vic says gratefully, and Cal nods briefly, brushing his thumb across my lower lip. It’s meant to be an affectionate gesture, but he has red all over his hands, so I just taste the copper of my own lifeblood. “Let’s blow this joint.”
“Not happening,” Oscar says, and when I sit up to see what he’s looking at, my head spins and I get so dizzy that I almost retch. So much blood. So, so much of it. With a groan, I put my head between my knees as Vic sits back with another curse. Pretty sure he says something weird like fuck a succubus’ cunt, but I also might’ve imagined it. My head is spinning like crazy. “These guys are professionals. They aren’t Ophelia’s hired thugs—this is the GMP.”
“You’re kidding me?” Vic snarls as I lift my head up and open my eyes. Cal has dragged the man down the hill, using the shadows of the woods to keep the body hidden from the wandering eyes of partying students. He kicks the man over and then pushes his sleeve up, revealing a tattoo that looks like a graffiti tag.
“The GMP?” I murmur, swaying slightly as Vic removes his button-down, bundling it up and pressing it against my head wound. He takes my hand and places it over the shirt, encouraging me to hold it there.
“The Grand Murder Party,” Victor says with a long sigh. “It’s a fucked-up white supremacist gang from Portland.” He wraps his arm around my waist, lifting me off the ground. I sway a bit when he sets me down, but Vic doesn’t let go, so I have time to find my feet. “No goddamn clue why they’d care what happens between two baby gangs in Springfield of all places.”
“I told you this was a possibility,” Oscar says, his gun in one hand, phone in the other. He’s sending off texts like crazy. “They were supplying product for the Charter Crew, but that doesn’t explain their presence here.”
“Unless we’re starting to scare them,” Callum commented, his eyes scanning the trees. “Bet you we find another dozen of them lurking around. This feels like a planned hit.”
“Agreed.” Vic grabs onto my hand, squeezing too hard. “Oscar, get Hael. Cal, start searching the trees.” The boys nod and break away from us, but not before Oscar’s eyes meet mine and narrow slightly. If he were any other person, I might think he was worried about the blood gushing out of my head. “Come with me.”