Fancy.

Makes Ophelia and Tom’s place in Oak River Heights look like shit.

Vic drives the Bronco with Aaron and Cal, leaving me with Hael and Oscar.

“You can admit that you’re jealous as fuck,” Hael explains, turning the music down when we get to the fancy neighborhood and he slows down substantially, rolling down the window and scoping out the houses. I don’t think he’s looking at the architecture though. Pretty sure he’s canvassing places to rob. “Just say it, so I don’t have to make fun of you so much.”

“Please stop.” I turn toward him with a sharp smile on my lips. They’re painted black today. Black. I’m channeling my inner goth girl. “I’d really appreciate not having to cut your balls off.”

“Fucking please,” Hael snorts back at me, pulling into a short driveway and pausing at a gold intercom. He leans out the window and presses the buzzer. “You’d much rather suck them into your mouth.” Hael glances back and winks at me while I flip him off. The intercom buzzes back at us, and the metal gates slide open.

We curve up the top half of a circular driveway, the Bronco right behind us. We park behind a black Maybach and climb out, finding ourselves in front of this two and a half million-dollar house that looks more like a cabin than the swanky palace of some rich girl princess.

“We’re going to die out here,” I murmur as Oscar gets out of the car and pauses beside me. “Mark my words. This is the beginning of the motherfucking end.”

“And you’re such the expert,” he fires back at me, following me up the wide steps. On either side of me, there are columns made of river rocks. It’s ridiculously rustic on the outside, complete with log cabin walls. Huh. More of those Southern California assholes who move up here and think of Oregon as their forested playground. I’m in a bad mood already. “That’s why you hired us, isn’t it? Because we know better.”

“And now I’m one of you and this is me knowing better,” I add, just before the door opens and I find Trinity in a bright pink party dress. It’s not as short as the one I wore to the museum, and it has little frilly bits on the very bottom. The top, however, is cut low enough to show cleavage.

“Welcome to the party,” she says, pushing the screen open and gesturing for us to come in. Vic comes up behind us with Aaron and Cal on his heels, and Trinity’s eyes go right to him. She moves over to a small wooden table lined with little booklets. There’s a basket next to them, filled with phones.

My hands clench at my sides and I feel bile rise in my throat.

“What are we doing here, Trinity?” Vic asks, tucking his hands into his front pockets in that way of his. “We all know we’re not friends. Shit, you knew I’d bring Bernie if you invited me. There must be something to that.”

The girl tucks her golden hair behind one ear and smiles.

“Look, my father and my grandfather are well-respected businessmen. But we’re having money troubles. My family needs an influx of cash and quick. You need a way to keep your whore alive. It’s simple mathematics.”

“Keep calling me a whore and I’ll give you the answer to your little game right now: I will be the murderer at this party, regardless of what the cards say.” I gesture at the table, tempted to flip it over. “And if you think I’m giving up my phone while I’m here, you’ve lost your fucking mind.”

“So classy. Your profanity exposes your background. You should be careful with your choice of words.” Trinity stares right at me, like she thinks she has a right to make eye contact with me. This bitch … I think, forcing my black lips to smile.

“Some people think the F-word is uneducated and classless,” I begin and Hael groans. But it’s the kind of groan that says I know you’re gonna do bad things, and I can’t fucking wait to see what they are. “I say they better check their bullshit privilege. Demeaning others for their use of language is the first step on the ladder to classism. It sickens me.”

“Who are you anyway?” Trinity asks, gesturing at me before turning to the other boys. “Victor has blue blood in his veins; he has money coming. The rest of you are gold-digging trash as far as I’m concerned.”

“Are we supposed to be afraid of you?” Oscar asks, looking at her like she’s lost her damn mind. She must, if she thinks her money or her security systems will protect her from Havoc. “Let me know, so I can make a note of it.” He takes his phone out like he’s going to write something down.

“You might want to consider it,” Trinity says, gesturing at the table. I hold her words inside and lock them in a cage. When I let them out, she’s going to be so motherfucking sorry she just said what she did. I glance sidelong at Victor, but he’s as unreadable as ever and a million miles away from me. “But that’s okay. We have activities planned for tonight.” She smiles, and the expression reminds me of Ophelia. My first thought when I saw this girl was that she was an empty shell, ready to absorb anything around her that someone might find remotely interesting. She recycles it, looking for approval. The flavor of the week for her must be Ophelia Mars, but why? I can see why Trinity might want to marry Victor, but why would that matter to his mother? “This game can accommodate up to twenty players. Take a card and let’s get started.”

She taps the table as I exchange a look with Callum. He’s hunched over, but he’s looking at me from the safety of his hood. Our eyes meet and he raises his brows while I frown. We’re both wondering what the actual fuck we’re doing here.

“I’m not giving up my phone,” I repeat as Vic drops his in the basket and my mouth drops open. He glances over at me with a slight smirk resting on his lips. His face says come on, Bernadette, play along. But I can’t figure out why and it’s pissing me off. “Goddamn it, Victor,” I snarl, shoving my phone into the damn basket loud enough to crack the already cracked screen in a new place.

“If you need to use your phones, they’ll be right there on that table,” Trinity says, ever the consummate host. She pushes a barn door open and takes us down two steps into a sunken lounge area. This place really does look like a cabin. “Everyone, this is Victor Channing.” She pauses for dramatic effect, so long that I feel my eye twitch. “And some friends of his,” she tacks on haphazardly as a few people in the room wave at us, and the rest take one look at us and hide their fear in their drinks.

I’m trying to think up a witty retort when another door opens and a teenage guy slips inside.

When he lifts his gaze up to look at me, I startle a bit.

It’s fucking James Barrasso, from the club, the gang leader’s son.

I can feel Victor tensing up beside me. He knew the guy was going to be here. James’ father might be the leader of a gang, but he’s wealthy as fuck, too. Anyway, I’m sure their sordid family fits nicely into this den of wolves. Despite the fact that the Barrassos’ legitimate businesses have been raided several times, their casino checked over by forensic accountants, Maxwell Barrasso has never been charged with anything.

It’s like looking into a crystal ball and seeing what Victor might turn into one day.

Successful, dangerous, completely untouchable.