Chaos at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys, #2)

by C.M. Stunich

When it comes to Bernadette Blackbird, I’ve never been very rational. Once, in the tenth grade, when I was pretending to hate her, and lying with every breath I took, Sheldon Ernst murmured something about how sweet her cunt must taste. I beat him until he couldn’t stand. Because I’m jealous. And I’m in love. I’ve always been in love with that girl. Now, without any guilt or regret, she can be mine.

Does she know I used to press my palms against the outside of that door, put my ear to the wood and close my eyes, just to hear the sound of her? When she cried, I broke. When she screamed, I shattered.

He’ll never truly have her again, not to himself. “We will have Bernadette,” I say, and I only use the word we because these boys are my family. My gang, if you will. We were here first, but our prologue was Bernadette. Apparently, she’s desperate enough to become our epilogue, too. Just … hopefully not our epitaph. “I will have Bernadette,” I emphasize, staring into Aaron’s eyes.

On the outside, I’m as calm as I always am. On the inside, I motherfucking burn. Bernadette, Bernadette, Bernadette. Her name repeats in my head like it’s on a loop, and my cock stiffens inside my jeans. I squeeze my hands into fists, and Aaron notices. “You’ve never been able to accept that she really did love me,” he growls, and my smile turns into a maniacal smirk. I’m probably showing far too much teeth. “I’m a jealous, selfish man, Aaron Fadler. And you no longer have the protection of the innocent. Your hands are just as covered in blood; your soul is just as dark.”

Because I’m Victor Channing. This is Havoc. We’re OG, and everyone else can get fucked. And Bernadette Blackbird … she’s going to be my goddamn wife if it kills me. Which, thinking about it now, it just might.

“I’m okay,” he replies, but I’m not sure that’s true. He killed somebody tonight. For me. He’s bound to be a little fucked-up. Callum smiles, like he can sense the direction of my thoughts. “Just to be clear: I’m not upset that Danny Ensbrook is dead. I’m upset that I did it with too many witnesses, and that I put us all at risk. I’d kill the world to save you, Bernadette.”

“Fine,” I start, poking him in the chest. “You let him die, and I'll cut your fucking balls off.”

“If he dies, I'll sharpen the knife,” Victor says, dropping my hand, but I snatch his wrist before he can turn away, raising his dark brows my direction. “Yes, darling?” “Don't pull that darling shit on me,” I growl, yanking him close.

toxicity. “You and Hael come back to me. If either of you gets arrested …” “Yes, balls, knife, no Havoc babies.”

“They all wanted that for you,” Victor says quietly, dark eyes simmering. “An escape. A different life. A chance to be something better than a gangbanger.” “They all …” I repeat slowly, thinking of the other Havoc Boys. “Except for me. Some men sleep and dream. Some men have nightmares. You’re a nightmare, Bernadette, a beautiful nightmare.” Vic grabs my arm and leans in even closer, sending my pulse racing. “We’re both nightmares; we belong together.”

“That's what happened, Bernadette. We met up to discuss your price. They fought against me. They demanded we give you some bullshit, made-up price, some nonsense.” He laughs again, and the sound is that of a villain, staking his claim on the princess’ heart. Just like Callum. None of these boys are princes, not even Aaron. “We could've … no, no …” He rubs at his chin for a moment, the HAVOC tattoo on his knuckles making me shiver. No part of me believes I'm exempt from having that mark needled into my skin. “We would've done all the things you asked of us, and then set you free.”

“Treat me like the newest member of your little gang. Treat me like an initiate, but keep in mind that one day I'll be queen.” Aaron's eyes narrow, his mouth tightening into a thin line. He doesn't like the implications—that by marrying Vic, I'll be his queen—but he doesn't challenge them. Not yet. That's what I want. I hadn't realized it until now, but that's what I need. I want Aaron to stand up for me, to fight for us, for what we could have been.

But people who kill other people are murderers, right? Villains. Only a villain can truly stop another villain. There is no room in this world for heroes; they only get in the way.

“Fucking grease monkey,” I murmur, and then I kiss him. It’s pure fire, that kiss. We could light up the night with it. Hael’s tongue slips between my lips as his hands slide down my sides to cup my ass through my leather pants. “Jesus Christ,” Vic growls, throwing his soda can on the ground. It explodes in a rush of foam as he reaches down and grabs my chin. Hael’s jaw clenches tight and his hands squeeze even tighter on my ass. “When we get married, Bernadette Savannah Blackbird, you will be mine. And I’ll treat you as such. Oscar will mind his tongue. And next time he tries to do something stupid—like show you a fucking video of your sister being raped—it won’t be Hael that puts him in line, it’ll be me.” “You can’t be serious?” Oscar asks, scowling as he puts his iPad aside. “You’re on a very short leash, Victor. Can’t you see it? This girl is going to ruin us.” Oscar gestures at me with one of his tattooed hands. His easy calm is slipping as I smirk at him, watching the repercussions of that expression ripple through his body. “She’s already creating cracks between you and Hael, you and Aaron.” “Don’t use me as an argument against Bernadette,” Aaron

“How, might I ask, is that?” Oscar grinds out as Callum pushes his hood back, blond hair catching the sunlight. “I seem to have missed the memo. I wasn’t aware you two were soul mates; I was under the impression this was a marriage of convenience.” “What did you mean by ‘you’ll be mine’, exactly?” Callum asks, smiling slightly. “Just clarifying.” “All of your questions are self-explanatory,” Vic says,

“I called Havoc before there even was a Havoc,” he tells me, his tone acerbic and biting. “Part of my price for joining them was to give you up.” “See, that's the part I don't understand,” I snap, sitting up, already shaking with the rush of emotion. I need to approach this conversation in a different way than I have before, because that's never gotten me anywhere. But I need to understand this. If I don't, I'm afraid I'll always be stuck in this rut, running over the same problems again and again. To truly and utterly become a part of Havoc, I need Aaron to be honest with me. “Why would they care if you were dating me or not?” Aaron turns to look at me, narrowing his eyes like he thinks I'm playing dumb here or something. “Are you kidding me?” he asks, his voice dry and bitter. “Vic is goddamn obsessed with you.” I shiver and lick my lips, but I don't say anything. I can't let Aaron know that I like hearing that, that I want Victor Channing to be as obsessed with me as I am with him. “He's been obsessed with you for years. Even in elementary school …” Aaron starts, trailing off. “Even in elementary school, what?” I ask,

I once read a book, some time loop story called Devils’ Day Party, where the main character said, “Lying to other people is insane; lying to yourself is suicidal.”

“I’ve hated you in a way I’ve never hated anyone else,” I say, giving a small shake of my head. “I can’t explain it, but I think there’s a special sort of hate that blooms from love.” “Yeah, it’s called love-hate, and I hear the sex is off the charts.”

ink. “The sex is the easy part. It’s the feelings I struggle with.”

“Sex isn’t easy, Bernadette. Don’t start telling yourself that.”

“What if I were to tell you to get in the fucking bathroom?” Aaron asks, and I swear to god, something breaks inside of me. My numbness, my shields … the final piece shatters, and I’m left feeling like I’m floating. All of a sudden, I don’t know who I am anymore. I feel both vindicated and vulnerable, all at the same time. “Sounds like you’re still asking,” I manage to choke out. Aaron wraps an arm around my waist and scoops the other underneath my knees, lifting me up into his arms

“Stay out of the bathroom for a while,” he announces, loudly enough that everyone in that room hears him. “And if you think you can quite literally catch me with my pants down, I’m packing a .22 in my boot.” Aaron sweeps me toward the bathroom, kicking the swinging door in and setting me down on the counter.

“I can’t decide if I’d rather taste your cunt or look into your eyes,” he murmurs, putting his forehead to mine.

We do have history with Bernie. Since elementary school, we’ve tried to look out for her. Shit, we made a pact when we were thirteen to watch from afar but keep romance out of it. They all wanted her then; they still do, but in a different way. Things have changed a lot since we were thirteen. Bernadette is curvy and beautiful, a young woman with determination and hope in her eyes. For the briefest of moments, she was mine. She was mine. Fucking mine.

have to let her go, Aaron. The life of a mobster’s wife is short and brutal.”

We can put distance between us, but that connection we have … it can’t be severed. Whether her name is in the acronym or not, Bernadette will and always has been Havoc, one of the family. Mine.

“A Havoc Girl. You keep saying she’s yours, and I can’t blame you. I’d like her to be mine, too, but, uh”—Aaron pauses to grab a beer from the fridge, leaning his back against the door after it closes—“that’s not what we agreed on. You’re as bound to Havoc’s price as she is. Or are you above it, Vic?”

more. “Nobody wanted to let you go. They’re all into you, Bernie. All of them. And that terrifies me.” He leans back and exhales. “I haven’t been afraid since I was five and here you come, sauntering in and shattering everything. That’s what you’ve done, Bernie, you’ve ruined me.”

“Um, you mean between the burying of bodies and the gang war on our hands, have I been dating?” Hael pauses, the edge of his lip quirking up in a cocky smirk. “Or … fucking? Have I been dipping my dick into the sweet waters of a pussy that isn’t yours?”

“Tell me I’m tighter than Brittany,” I moan, even though I hate to hear her name pass his lips. “So much tighter,” he agrees, thrusting hard and deep. “So much wetter.” Another thrust, another flick of my clit. My breasts bounce as the car rocks underneath us, taking the motion of its master’s thrusting hips without complaint. “So much prettier, too. I imagined you when I was fucking her, you know that?”

When I open my eyes, I see the words Not Pregnant and my breath escapes in a rush. “I see I’ve failed to fuck you hard enough,” is Vic’s response.

It’s not as if I enjoy doing violent things. No, it’s that violent things are necessary. You can’t create order without a little chaos. You can’t stir Havoc without a little pain.

“Why am I pissed at you?” Oscar asks with a sharp laugh. I notice he doesn’t put any space between us. My eyes find his pierced nipples, drifting lower and wishing I could see his pierced cock, too. “Because of that.” He points toward the staircase and frowns, nice and violent. “Victor doesn’t treat you well. None of them do. Why do you reward them with your affection? It disturbs me, Bernadette.”

“I’m mad because you kiss and fuck and fawn over them, after everything they’ve done to you.” Oscar pauses and rattles his long fingers against the countertop, like the inked legs of a venomous spider. He looks back at me. “After everything I’ve done to you.” He pauses then, and the room gets real quiet as the song ends once again. It starts up soon after, but I can feel that pregnant pause like a punch to the gut.

“Are you upset because I fuck them …” I start, taking a gamble and lifting my palms to Oscar’s bare chest. Joining Havoc has made me brave. It’s only been a few months, but I’m surprised at how much I’ve changed. What will I look like after a year? A decade? “Or upset because I don’t fuck you?” I press my fingers to Oscar’s skin, and he hisses at me. His hands snap up to grab my wrists, but he doesn’t push me away. Instead, he traps my palms against his skin. He’s burning up beneath my touch, and I’m finding it really hard to breathe. “You wouldn’t want me to fuck you, Bernadette. I’m not sure I could behave myself.”

He kisses me again, but I find that I suddenly don’t recognize him at all. He’s … kissing me softly, almost reverently. His body moves the same way, at complete odds with his personality. Jesus fuck, Oscar Montauk is making love to me.

“Why do you have to mess with me like this?” he continues, and it takes me a second to realize he’s not talking about the Christmas tree. No, he’s talking about Oscar. “You know how I feel when I see you with another man, don’t you?” “Grateful for a night off?” I joke, and his hold tightens on me.

“We didn’t want Neil’s murder pinned on you. That, and someone would have to go to jail. That would mean never seeing you again. We were all too selfish to let you go.”

“Courthouse? Why is Pamela asking me about the courthouse?” “Oh.” Vic finishes peeing, shakes his dick off, and then tucks it away. He moves over to the sink to wash his hands, taking his sweet time responding to me. “I paid your mother ten-thousand dollars and a Burberry bag for your hand in marriage.”

Even in the face of hate, of pain, of ruin, Bernadette has never stopped watching us. Never stopped loving us. And we, we love her. Me, most of all.

“Not our baby, not our problem. Let’s roll. Hael, meet us back at the house in twenty? We have wedding shit to plan today. You can be my best man as long as Callum is Bernie’s maid of honor.” “Just so long as I don’t have to wear a dress,” Cal quips, giving a dark anti-smile. “They don’t suit my frame very well.”

“Why are you always kissing on each other?” she demands, slamming the fridge door and turning to glare at us. “Whoa,” Hael whistles with a laugh. Victor’s big body shakes behind me as he chuckles. “Because we’re in love,” he murmurs, resting his chin on my shoulder. I can see Aaron rolling his eyes at the comment. “Well, I don’t want you to be in love,” Heather declares, lifting her chin and crossing her arms over her Spiderman t-shirt. “I ship you and Aaron.” “You ship us?” Aaron echoes, and it’s like he can’t control his face anymore. His lips twist up into a shit-eating smirk. “Seriously?” “Seriously,” Heather says as Vic stands up straight and frowns at her.

“But I think Aaron and Bernadette are meant to be together.” She glances down at Ashley who, shockingly enough, actually decides that today is the day she’s no longer afraid of me. I must truly be a part of the family now. “I ship Bernie and Callum,” she says, and he snorts from behind me, perched on the edge of the counter as he taps his heels against the lower cabinets. “So two votes for me, one for Callum, and zero for any of you assholes,” Aaron clarifies, pointing at Oscar, Hael, and Vic. “I’ll take it.”

“Fuck, I’m scared,” I murmur, and Aaron laughs softly. I glance briefly in his direction. “I’d be worried if you weren’t,” he tells me, putting his hand over mine. His touch comforts me, and I close my eyes for a moment, just to catch my breath. “But as much as I hate Vic sometimes, I trust him with my life.” Aaron pauses a moment, and I open my eyes to look at him. He’s staring at the floor and not at me, but his expression isn’t unpleasant. Actually, he looks a little surprised. “I trust him with the love of my life, too, apparently.” He scoffs a harsh laugh and then glances back at me.

How ominous. “My only question to you today is,” Oscar continues, reaching up to adjust his glasses as he looks between us. “Are you willing to bleed for each other?” Callum steps forward to hand the wedding bands to us. They’re artfully tied to a black rose, using silken ribbons that remind me of Cal’s ballerina tattoo. “Victor, please repeat after me. I, Victor Channing, am an asshole who in no way deserves Bernadette Blackbird, but who, through some strange fault of the universe, will be marrying her today. I will bleed for her; I will die for her. I agree to marry her.”

“I have vows for you, but I’m not about to read them in front of my mother. But tonight, I want to tell you everything. And then I’m going to tear that wedding dress off and fuck you until you’re mine.”