Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #3)(46)

“What happened after you left the school?” Sara asks, her face troubled and dark. This is probably rocking her world right now, finding out that her partner wasn’t just a cop but a criminal.

“He took me outside in cuffs, threw me around a little, and then put his gun to my head.” I sigh and rub both of my hands over my face. “Neil is going to freak when he finds out I’ve talked to you.”

“We need to know where he is, Bernadette,” Sara pushes, scooting forward on the desk just a bit. Constantine doesn’t want her here, obviously, but he stays stoic, still staring at me like he thinks I’m the bad guy. Right, I’m the bad guy when he knows from a credible source that Neil went batshit and beat a school administrator into a coma.

“If I knew where he was, I wouldn’t tell you,” I say, which is partially true. The if part is the only lie. I know exactly where Neil is, which is where he belongs. Six feet under and suffering. I hope it was scary, tucked into that bloodred satin lining while he gasped for air and fumbled with the oxygen tank.

The boys told Neil they were offering him a kindness. But that kindness was not the oxygen tank. The kindness was the knife. The tank and the snacks, those were another form of torture, one that Neil had to choose for himself.

Daymares of him coming back to get me, covered in dirt and rotting, flicker across my vision, but I banish them. People don’t dig themselves out of graves in real life, only in the movies. Besides, even though I didn’t ask, I bet the boys sent some of our crew to watch the site after we left.

“Why not?” Sara asks softly. I drop my hands to my lap and look up and into her eyes. She’s falling for my shit, but there’s something else in her gaze, something that scares me. Sara Young is on a quest for justice, and she isn’t going to stop until she finds what she’s looking for.

I wonder if we haven’t made a mistake by underestimating her.

“Because he’ll kill me like he did my sister,” I snap, letting that very real, very righteous anger wash over me. I shove up from my chair and storm out of the room, ignoring Constantine’s voice when he calls out to me.

As soon as I get out that door, I run into Billie Charter.

We freeze in the middle of the hallway, facing off against one another.

I smile.

It’s a hideous expression on my face, I’m sure.

“My brother is going to ruin you,” Billie sneers, flipping her teal and black hair like she’s somehow missed the metaphorical crown sitting on my head. Must still be salty about that time at camp when I beat her ass into the ground.

“Too late,” I whisper, giving her the nastiest, shadiest sneer I can muster. “Just remember this moment when I’m cutting your face open as repayment.” I tap a finger against the edge of my lips and keep walking as Principal Vaughn opens the door to Ms. Keating’s office and ushers Billie inside.

When I slip into my English class, Mr. Darkwood is droning on and on about how Shakespeare and his writing were actually political during his time, blah, blah, blah. Kali immediately turns around to look at me, eyes red-rimmed, lips pursed. Bet she was counting on seeing Neil sometime in the last ten days.

I remember that I filed away a note in the back of my brain: ask Mitch if he knows Kali is cheating on him. Bet he doesn’t. Bet Kali didn’t think she’d see me alive ever again after that Friday.

I keep smiling at her as I slide into my seat and she shivers like I’ve just creeped her the fuck out. Good. Maybe she can sense how done I am with her crap? Shit, how done I am with everyone’s crap.

For a long time, I tried to be the good guy. I tried so fucking hard. Then I was stomped into the ground for that trust, that belief. Not anymore. Nobody wanted to hear my side of the story, nobody cared. So I became somebody. Now somebody does care. I’ll protect Heather and Ms. Keating and girls like Alyssa Hart.

“What are you looking at?” Kali finally snaps, interrupting Mr. Darkwood’s lecture. Oh, and also, she’s the one who’s craning her neck around to look at me.

“Cry 'Havoc!,' and let slip the dogs of war!” I yell, cupping my hands around my mouth before I let out a wild-sounding howl. It takes a second, but four other students in the class do the same, cupping their hands around their mouths and howling.

Less than a minute later, I can hear the call echoing down the hallways, until the entire school is engulfed in the sounds of Havoc.





Callum is howling on the front steps of the school when I come down the hall after my last class of the day. In just a few seconds, dozens of other students call back to him. He turns to me with a flashy grin, gold afternoon sunshine making him look like a fucking kid for a minute. The sight throws me off, I won’t lie.

“I hear you came up with this genius,” Cal says as I pause beside him. He doesn’t seem at all concerned about our day, filled with cops and detectives and prying young women named Sara Young. She’s the one I’m most afraid of here. Callum tucks his blue-painted fingernails into the front pocket of his sleeveless hoodie. It’s black with a bright-white skeleton pattern. The only color in his clothes at all is a small red heart printed over his real one. “So simple, but easy to freak people out with.”

“You’re so creepy,” I tease, taking up the group mantle of picking on Cal for his weirdness. He was kinda preppy before all of this, you know? “But also, what’s the plan today and why don’t I ever know it in advance?”