Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #3)(114)

I pause for a moment.

Of course Kali has Aaron. Of course she does. And if she’s working for Ophelia specifically, then it’s a double-edged sword.

“Leverage, but also obsession,” Oscar remarks, making my blood boil.

“Please don’t kill me,” Billie whimpers after a minute, when my hands tighten just a bit more on her neck. “I have a baby. Like you said before, I’m a terrible mom. I am. I know I am. But I don’t want to do this anymore.” I look her straight in the face, and I keep squeezing until she starts to cough. “My dad’s a drug addict, Bernie. He’ll end up foster care. Please, I promise I don’t know where Aaron is.” She starts to weep then, salty tears rolling down her face and mixing with a bit of the blood leaking down from her forehead.

Fuck.

Just hearing the word foster care … I’m not saying there aren’t nice foster homes: look at Oscar and the Peters. But … goddamn it, she’s found my Achilles’ heel.

The guys wait patiently around me to see what I’ll do. Looking down at Billie, all I want is to just push into her neck until she stops breathing. I’m furious, and I want justice … but I also have my own rulebook that I stick by. If I start crossing those lines, then I’m just like Neil or Eric or Kali.

I let go and stand up, leaving Billie to shake and sob on the hallway floor.

“Good call, Bernie,” Hael says, taking my hand and leading me back to the dance. I don’t bother to pay Billie a backwards glance; she isn’t even worth that much. Next time she pisses me off, however, there will be no other chances.

“And very informative,” Oscar agrees, biting the end of one of his fingers in thought. “The question is: where is Kali now?”

I step into the gym and the first person I spot on the other side of the room is Officer Young, wearing a very pretty lemon-colored dress and talking to Principal Vaughn.

And then the doors open, and the next person I see is Kali motherfucking Rose-Kennedy.

We look at each other, and I just know that one of us is going to end up dead that night.

I also know for a fact that it sure as hell isn’t going to be me.





To Be Continued …





The Havoc Boys, Book #4 (August 27th, 2020)





Death by Deatbreak Motorcycle Club, Book #1





Devils' Day Party, Standalone





Rich Boys of Burberry Prep, Book #1

Flip the page for an excerpt of chapter one.





Prologue


My uniform—and my dignity—are in tatters.

My eyes scan the gathered crowd, but there are three faces in particular that catch my attention. Cold, cruel, beautiful. An ugly sort of beautiful, I think as I meet a narrowed silver gaze and catch the faintest edges of a smirk. Tristan Vanderbilt thinks he’s beaten me; they all do. But what they don’t understand is that I’m not the nervous, eager little charity case I was when I first started at Burberry Prep.

Lifting an arm up, I swipe a bit of blood from my mouth. My bra is showing through the torn remnants of my white blouse, and it’s the pretty red one I wore just for Zayd. He made me believe he cared about me. Flicking my eyes in his direction, I can see quite clearly now that he doesn’t. He isn’t smiling, not like Tristan, but the message in his green eyes is clear: you don’t belong here.

“Had enough yet?” Harper du Pont purrs from behind me. I don’t bother turning to look at her. Instead, I let my attention slide to the last of the three guys. My three biggest mistakes; my three greatest betrayals. Creed is frowning, like this whole confrontation is a necessary evil. Get rid of the lower-class trash, clean up the school.

The wind picks up, the ragged red pleats of my academy uniform billowing in a salty breeze. In the distance, I can hear the sea. It crashes against the rocks in time to the frantic beating of my heart. A storm is coming.

Tristan moves toward me with predatory grace, his expensive loafers picking up droplets of dew as he comes to stand toe-to-toe with me, as close as he was that first day when he insulted me and then laid out the challenge: how long do you think you’ll last? Well. It’s the final day of freshman year, and I’m still standing here, aren’t I? Tristan, though, he thinks that while I’ve won the battle, he’s going to win the war.

I stay stone-still as he lifts his fingers and tangles strands of my paint-splattered hair through them, giving the short rose gold locks a light tug. Red paint smears across his perfect skin as I meet those gray eyes of his with a defiant glimmer in my own.

“I take it you won’t be coming back next year, will you, Marnye?” he whispers, his voice like whiskey over ice. Tristan thinks he’s the master of this school, a veritable god. The other boys think of themselves like that, too. I’d like to be a fly on the wall when a confrontation finally comes. They think their money will buy them the world. Maybe, in a way, it will.

But it won’t buy them true friendship, and it won’t buy them love. It definitely won’t buy them me.

I glance past Tristan to Zayd and Creed, and then I refocus my attention back on the asshole that started it all. From day one, he went out of his way to make my life a living hell. He succeeded. And Zayd and Creed, they loved every horrible, filthy second of it.