“It’s a head wound; there’s bound to be a lot of blood,” Callum murmurs as Oscar circles around us, revolver at the ready. Nobody else has noticed that I’ve been shot. Hael is still singing; the crowd is still bouncing. Seems like my shooter had a silencer on his rifle. “But she’s right: she’s okay. The bullet just grazed her.”

“Thanks to you,” Vic says gratefully, and Cal nods briefly, brushing his thumb across my lower lip. It’s meant to be an affectionate gesture, but he has red all over his hands, so I just taste the copper of my own lifeblood. “Let’s blow this joint.”

“Not happening,” Oscar says, and when I sit up to see what he’s looking at, my head spins and I get so dizzy that I almost retch. So much blood. So, so much of it. With a groan, I put my head between my knees as Vic sits back with another curse. Pretty sure he says something weird like fuck a succubus’ cunt, but I also might’ve imagined it. My head is spinning like crazy. “These guys are professionals. They aren’t Ophelia’s hired thugs—this is the GMP.”

“You’re kidding me?” Vic snarls as I lift my head up and open my eyes. Cal has dragged the man down the hill, using the shadows of the woods to keep the body hidden from the wandering eyes of partying students. He kicks the man over and then pushes his sleeve up, revealing a tattoo that looks like a graffiti tag.

“The GMP?” I murmur, swaying slightly as Vic removes his button-down, bundling it up and pressing it against my head wound. He takes my hand and places it over the shirt, encouraging me to hold it there.

“The Grand Murder Party,” Victor says with a long sigh. “It’s a fucked-up white supremacist gang from Portland.” He wraps his arm around my waist, lifting me off the ground. I sway a bit when he sets me down, but Vic doesn’t let go, so I have time to find my feet. “No goddamn clue why they’d care what happens between two baby gangs in Springfield of all places.”

“I told you this was a possibility,” Oscar says, his gun in one hand, phone in the other. He’s sending off texts like crazy. “They were supplying product for the Charter Crew, but that doesn’t explain their presence here.”

“Unless we’re starting to scare them,” Callum commented, his eyes scanning the trees. “Bet you we find another dozen of them lurking around. This feels like a planned hit.”

“Agreed.” Vic grabs onto my hand, squeezing too hard. “Oscar, get Hael. Cal, start searching the trees.” The boys nod and break away from us, but not before Oscar’s eyes meet mine and narrow slightly. If he were any other person, I might think he was worried about the blood gushing out of my head. “Come with me.”

Victor crouches low and I copy him, letting him drag me through the maze of cars. We weave between luxury vehicles, minivans, and clunkers, the stark socioeconomic difference between the vehicles noticeable, even in such a high-octane situation. Traditionally, on Snow Day, the Oak Valley Prep kids leave their keys in their cars. Prescott students can take them for a joyride provided they’re back by sunrise. If they’re not … well, Oak Valley brats don’t give a shit anyway. Mommy and Daddy will just buy them a new Lambo, right?

“Here.” Vic opens the door to a black Aston Martin. It’s a keyless start—of course it is—so he doesn’t bother handing the keys to me, but he does check the cup holder to make sure they’re inside the car. “Get in and drive back to town.”

I look at him like he’s just grown horns.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not going anywhere until I figure out where Aaron is. You saw Kali tonight. She is done with the Charter Crew, done with Prescott. After tonight, we might never see her again.”

Vic growls at me. Like, literally bares his teeth and snarls.

“Bernadette, I’m not speaking to you like a lover. I’m telling you as your boss to get your tight, little ass in this car and drive.”

I glare back at him, my hands clenching into fists. The air is tense, but the mood is strange. Music is still booming, kids are still laughing, and there aren’t exactly gunshots peppering the night air, but the danger is still very, very real. I swipe some blood from my face and flick it at Vic, spattering him with red.

“What about fucking Kali?” I snap back. Mostly because of Aaron. Yes, I want to cunt-punt the thieving, little bitch, but mostly I need to find my man. That’s the driving force here. Only Aaron matters. Revenge, vengeance … that’s all secondary. My heart stutters as the realization finally comes to.

I … didn’t go to Havoc for revenge, did I? Not really.

It’s secondary. Secondary. Always secondary.

“You’re just begging for another spanking, aren’t you?” Vic asks, standing up. I follow suit, and then he grabs me by the arm, shoving me into the car and slamming the door, holding it closed when I try to open it. “Your head is okay?” he clarifies through the glass, and I swear to god, I almost decide to run him over with the goddamn Aston Martin that I’m bleeding all the fuck over. “You’re good to drive?”

“Fuck off, Victor Channing,” I murmur, starting the car and wondering how Hael would describe the purr of the engine. It’s nice, even to a car-noob like myself.

“Call me and leave the line open, just in case,” Vic tells me, tapping the roof and then stepping back as I roll the window down. A second later, the passenger side door opens and Hael slips in. “Make sure she gets back to the house safely.”

“A babysitter, how exciting,” I growl out, furious that I’m being sent away like a child.

“A partner,” Hael corrects, kicking one boot up on the dash. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive? I mean, considering you’ve had all of one lesson in your life.” I ignore him and put the vehicle in reverse before someone else pulls up behind me and blocks us in. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Didn’t know you could sing,” I murmur, to keep my mind off the situation at hand. Kali is a world-class liar. I bet she doesn’t even know where Aaron is. My throat closes up as I lean back in the seat, turning the car around in the narrow road and heading back toward town.

It isn’t so hard to drive an automatic, now is it?

“Yeah, well,” Hael starts, shrugging his shoulders loosely, his eyes on my bloodied head. “Just a back-pocket talent I pull out every now and again.”

“Back-pocket talent?” I ask, trying not to think too hard about the fact that we’ve just left three of our boys behind at the party. Or about nearly getting my brains blown out. Or … Aaron.

“Something you keep hidden until you have a use for it,” Hael explains, shrugging and wetting his lower lip. He’s still staring at me though. I see now that the boys and I have entered a new phase, breaking out of our tenuous love-hate sort of tension and into … whatever this is. All of them trying to take care of me. How exciting. “You sure you’re alright? And I don’t just mean physically.”

I narrow my eyes as the headlights cut through the darkness. Am I? Not really. But what else can I do? We’re in the middle of a situation here.

A flash of gold catches my attention in the trees, and I slam the brakes on.