Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #3)(12)

I thought that once Neil was gone, I would feel better somehow, less sad about my sister’s being dead, as if vengeance is a cure-all for grief. While I’m happy that we’ve scrubbed that monster from existence, the sadness hasn’t dimmed an iota.

I stand there in front of the Vincents, looking around at this stupidly luxurious house and wondering how someone’s brain can be so corrupted by greed that they forget the basic tenets of humanity: compassion, empathy, and kindness.

“Are we going to kill them?” I ask, partially because I’m genuinely curious but also because I know the question will scare the crap out of Leigh and her husband (whose name I have yet to learn, mostly because I don’t care to).

“Not sure yet,” Vic replies, playing along as he lounges on the curved window seat, his back against the glass, a bottle of beer in his right hand. “Depends on that information they have, the information they wanted to, uh, barter with us about.” He gives a signature anti-smile as I move over to the drawer where Hael found the ice cream, looking for more.

“Wanna share?” he asks, offering it, and the spoon, up to me. I smile as I take it, feeling Vic’s eyes burn into my back as my fingers tangle with Hael’s. We stare at each other as I scoop out some chocolate ice cream and suck it off in the slowest, most sensual way possible.

“Listen,” Coraleigh continues, glaring at us as if we’ve invaded her private space. I wonder if she thinks about the girls she sells off, and how violated they must feel. Probably not, huh? “Marcus and I are respected members of the community. If we go missing, somebody will notice.”

“I mean, once we leak the information we have about your child sex-trafficking ring, nobody will look very hard.” Vic pauses, thinks for a moment, readjusts his statement. “Nobody will care.” He lets his mouth curl up into a sneer. “Like Epstein, and his mysterious suicide. Only, you’re much smaller potatoes, and you don’t have billionaires, politicians, and royalty as clients.”

“We have friends coming over,” Leigh continues as her husband whimpers from his location on her right, eyes closed, face wet with tears. “They’ll be here any minute.”

“Oh dear,” Oscar says, finally deigning to look up from his tablet. “I certainly hope not. I’d hate to have to shoot them and then, by consequence of your being witness, I’d then have to shoot you, too.”

I hop up on the counter beside Callum, our arms close enough to touch, and I enjoy that calm confidence of his. It seeps into my skin like a balm, reminding me of our conversation on the roof and the way he’d purred the word Yet back at me when I’d mentioned we hadn’t slept together.

He glances over at me and I look back at him, sucking chocolate ice cream off my spoon.

“There’s no need to resort to violence here,” Coraleigh says, still yammering along in that way of hers. “We don’t molest children. We don’t rape girls. We’re just two normal people trying to make it in a world that isn’t fair. You can understand that, right? You’re doing the same thing here tonight.”

“Why are they still alive and talking?” I ask, finally wrenching my gaze away from Cal to look at my social worker. Number three on my list and just as culpable as Eric in my opinion. If she actually looked out for the children under her care, maybe they wouldn’t keep disappearing into the netherworld?

It only takes one person to speak up and encourage others, to let them know you see darkness so they can see it, too. There are monsters hiding all around us, but if we each shine our light into that abyss, we can see them, we can find them, we can hunt them the way they hunt us.

I take another bite of ice cream. Its sinful decadence melts across my tongue, destroying my taste buds in the worst possible way. A pleasured groan escapes me, and Cal chuckles.

“You’re behaving remarkably well, considering the circumstances,” he whispers in that gorgeous voice of his, the one that sounds the way this double dark chocolate espresso ice cream tastes. I pretend like I’m not affected by his presence and shrug. It was Aaron who told me to try to find happiness in every, single moment. I’m really trying here. Oh, and besides, I’m starting to realize that I’m one seriously messed-up bitch who enjoys adrenaline rushes.

I, Bernadette Savannah Blackbird, am an adrenaline junkie.

“Your victim mentality crap is driving me nuts,” I tell Leigh, taking over the conversation, much to Hael’s pleasure. He’s just howling with laughter in that usual way of his, all reckless abandon and corrupted youth. He should be just a fun-loving kid, but the world has turned him into this cackling beast with a hard body and a perfect cock. I almost smile again, but then, I haven’t quite reached that level of creepy. “There’s nothing worse than someone who acts like they’re being bullied when, in reality, they are the bully themselves. It takes away from those who actually are being abused.” I point at the Vincents with my spoon. “You are not victims. You chose to exploit your position of power and trust in the community to bring harm to others solely for the purpose of, what, having a motherfucking undercounter freezer for your organic ice cream?” I feel myself getting growly and pause to wet my lips.

Leigh just keeps looking at me, her face nearly the same as the last time I saw it, six years ago. She’s had a nose job though, I’m pretty sure. And likely something with her tits, too. They were small and saggy last time we met up, but that wouldn’t have mattered if she was a good person. Alas, she is not, and I’m going to drag her looks through the mud, too.