Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #3)(6)

“You’re a cunt, Bernadette Blackbird. I’m assuming you’re aware of that?” he snaps back at me as Vic’s bike pulls up alongside the Camaro. Victor doesn’t hear what Oscar said to me, but as soon as he climbs off the Harley, he’s side-eying the both of us.

“Do I need to intervene in this shit?” he asks as he studies the pair of us with a look that’s one-part amusement, two-parts jealousy. “You two need to work through your crap, or we aren’t going to survive the rest of the school year.” Victor stands between us in holey jeans and a tight t-shirt that says Fuck You on the front of it. Very subtle. Add in his large statue, muscles, and ink, and he gets gawked at wherever he goes. I thought security might tackle him on his way out of the hotel this morning.

“We have nothing to work out,” Oscar lies, his tongue as slick as a snake’s. He slides off the hood and stands up, iPad tucked under his arm as per usual. Bet you wouldn’t leave your precious tablet alone on her period after coming inside of her, you nightmare of a man. “All is business as usual. We’re running nearly fifteen minutes ahead of schedule.”

“Nothing to work out?” I echo and Victor groans, sliding his hand over his face. “You bloodied your dick and ran, Oscar. I mean, what the hell is wrong with you?”

The way he looks at me, I’ve never been more certain that I was looking in the eyes of a person who was intent on committing murder. Hopefully, just not mine. Maybe he’s thinking of Mitch Charter or something?

After all, we left Prescott High a mess.

We left them cheering our destruction in the hallways.

We left a missing and bloodied Havoc Crew.

We left Kali’s smirking face and Billie’s whispered quips.

My fists clench at my sides and I force myself to take a deep breath.

“Ah, yes,” Oscar says as Vic scowls, clearly annoyed at having to discuss me fucking other guys on his honeymoon. Yet another atomic bomb waiting to explode and wash us all in emotional fallout: Vic seemed to be under the impression that I wouldn’t be having sex with anyone else after the wedding. “That’s right: you’re the type that gets emotional about sex.” He looks me straight in the face, but I can’t read anything in those gray eyes of his. The light catches on the lenses of his glasses, further shielding him from my scrutiny. “But rest assured, Mrs. Channing, that it meant nothing to me; I’ve already forgotten.”

Liar.

The word sings in my mind, bright and clear and sharp.

I narrow my eyes, but I don’t get the chance to respond because Vic does it for me.

“I told you that things would change after Bernadette and I were married.” Victor’s words are low and dark, drawing Oscar’s attention in an instant. “I meant it. This is your warning, Oscar. Don’t make me follow through with a threat.”

Oscar’s face darkens and tightens up as he returns Victor’s stare, all the while desperately trying to maintain his stoicism. He’s acting like this situation doesn’t bother him, but it’s breaking him into pieces. It’s written in the tense lines of his body, in the shape of his mouth, the way his knuckles turn white as he grips the tablet in stern claws by his side.

“Understood, boss.” His eyes flick my direction as he reaches up a tatted middle finger to push his glasses up his nose. “My apologies, Mrs. Channing. All I meant was that you needn’t worry about what happened between us on the couch ever happening again.” He smiles at me, and but his expression is hot with anger, and his lips are as sharp as a dagger.

I feel my spirit puncture and start to bleed from the attack.

“You're forgiven for today's transgressions, Montauk,” I purr back at him, stepping so close that when I pull in a breath, I smell cinnamon instead of salt water and sand. Oscar's stone-still in front of me, like he's managed to wrestle all those demons inside of him back into their cage. Impressive. “But you are not forgiven for fucking me on my period and running. You owe me an explanation.”

“I owe you nothing,” he breathes back, moving around me and taking off down the hill toward the picnic table where Hael and Callum are waiting. I watch him go, seething on the inside and wishing him ill with every subsequent breath.

“Jesus Christ, you two are going to put me in an early grave,” Victor grumbles, taking off down the path with the obvious intent that I follow after. With a sigh, I do, because as mad as I am at Oscar, I'm all-in for a life with Havoc.

What has been done cannot be undone.

My contract is signed and sealed in my blood; my fingers are stamped with ink; my heart is fractured into five fragments. No matter how much I wish it weren't, one of those pieces belongs to Oscar Montauk. Always has.

Like I said when he was pushing me down onto the couch, “Since elementary school.”

He let me cheat off his tests in sixth grade; he told me he was allergic to apples, so I’d take his from him, so I always had some extra food to bring home in case Pamela forgot to feed me. How can I forget those things? How can I forget that when I asked if he were in love with me, his response was, “You're bleeding.”

Gah!

I kick the sand and run the fingers of both hands through my hair to shake out the pink-tipped blond strands. I'm going to kill that cocksucker before we graduate if he doesn't start opening up to me, I swear to fuck.