“Isn't that why Havoc has people?” I ask dryly, glancing over and finding Oscar's trenchant expression resting on me. He pushes his glasses up with an inked middle finger, flashing the 'V' of his H.A.V.O.C. tattoo. Jesus, what have I gotten myself into? “To warn us about that shit? How did the Thing get into the house? And with Kali and Scott on top of it?”

“That's what Victor was dealing with last night,” Oscar says as he pushes open the driver's side door open. “Several of our guys were left bleeding and broken by Mitch's crew; the rest are now bleeding and broken because Vic cannot stand failure of any kind.” He slips out and closes his door behind him, leaving me to catch up.

I take my sweet time, refusing to be intimidated by Oscar Montauk.

Once I get inside, I find him sitting at the café near the front door, sipping a coffee and fucking around on his iPad.

What a drama queen, I think, setting my jaw as I pause beside the table. Oscar gestures at the empty seat across from him with an elegant hand, wrapped entirely in ink. Out of all the boys, he's the most covered in tattoos. He must've really worked his ass off to get so many at such a young age. Not for the first time, I wonder about Oscar's family—or if he even has any. Sometimes, it's a blessing to be alone.

“Take a seat.”

There's a second coffee sitting there, waiting for me. I slump down into the plastic chair, listening to the incessant beeping of products being scanned at the registers. People wheel carts past as I sit there in a sea of normalcy, more aware than ever before that I will not be living a life like any of them. My biggest worry will never be about what's going to happen for dinner. Instead, I'll always wonder if calling out Havoc was the biggest mistake I ever made.

My fingernails tap against the surface of the table before I finally reach for the coffee. Oscar ignores me like he always does, zoned in on the screen of his tablet. He's basically glued to that thing. I figure it holds all of Havoc's secrets. One of these days, I'm going to get a hold of that thing and unearth every dark story it holds.

After a moment, I pull my phone out and turn it on, nausea taking over my belly as I wait to see the impact of last night's charades on the Prescott High gossip circle. There are photos of the Halloween party on every student's social media accounts, hundreds of them, videos, too. But … nothing about clowns and boys with skeleton makeup on their faces.

Nothing about murder.

I do, however, have several texts from Kali Rose-Kennedy herself.

Hah.

Kali Rose.

Liar. Thief. Coward.

And the Havoc Boys and I … we were going to kill her. I just didn’t know that yet.

Where the hell is Danny, you psycho?

That text is followed by a dozen others, accusing me and the boys of kidnapping Danny, threats to call the cops. No matter how well the boys buried Danny, this problem isn't going away. No, it's only going to get worse.

I exhale sharply, a fear taking over me that I've never felt before.

For some stupid, silly reason I was certain that I had nothing to lose, that I'd fallen as hard and as far and as fast as was possible, that I was truly at rock-bottom. But I was wrong. We always have more to lose than we think we do, don't we?

“Kali's been texting me,” I say, pushing my phone across the table to Oscar. He looks up briefly, his gray eyes catching mine. He doesn't want me here; he doesn't want me to be a part of Havoc. And every time something happens between me and Victor, I get the sense that I'm making him like me less and less. Why, I have no idea. The way he looked that day he caught me with the paperwork I'd stolen from Vice Principal Keating's office, it was as if he were desperate for me to fail. Like he'd take any reason he was given to get me kicked out of Havoc. “My inclination is to tell her to fuck off, then block her.”

Oscar reads the messages carefully, looking for meaning beneath the lines. And then he passes the phone back to me.

“Do what you'd normally do,” he tells me, sipping his coffee, and then spinning his iPad around so I can see the screen. There's an entire thread on Mitch's Facebook page about Danny; nobody's seen him since last night. Nobody knows.

At least, not yet they don't.

“Have you guys ever …” I pause, looking up from the screen to see Oscar's stoic face. He's beyond handsome, like some billionaire born in the wrong part of town, so cultured and elegant, so beautiful with those high cheekbones and that full lower lip. The tattoos on his neck and his hands almost add to the illusion, providing a sort of contrast to his unearthly beauty. “Well, ever done anything like that before.” Has Havoc ever murdered someone before, that's my question and he damn well knows it.

Oscar just smirks at me, his devil-may-care attitude pissing me the hell off.

“Unlike Vic, you don't have a stranglehold on my heart, Bernadette. I'm not about to give you all my naughty, little secrets.” He stands up, taking his coffee and his iPad with him. “Let's shop. Our budget is three hundred dollars; we need food for the week as well, not just today.” He opens a list on his iPad, and I see that it's like, some sort of master list of basic shopping needs.

“God, you guys are weird,” I murmur, taking a cart as we pass by and pushing it down the aisle. “Gang members don't generally shop for food together, you know that right?”

“Whoever said we were a gang?” Oscar asks, pausing in the middle of the aisle and giving me a look that says I've disgusted him. Seriously, I can't win with this guy. Fluorescent lights beat down on my head, the rolling of cart wheels and the whining of small children near the checkout making me feel trapped. Itchy. Desperate to escape. “We're a family, Bernadette. I'd have thought you figured that out already?”

Oscar takes the cart, heading down the aisle in black jeans and a white t-shirt, one of the most casual outfits I've ever seen him wear. I let him go, grabbing a small red basket instead and loading it up with the ingredients I need for tonight's dinner. Once I'm finished, I wait near the self-checkout, sipping my coffee and waiting for Oscar.

As far as mornings go, this one is terribly boring.

But I have a feeling this is just the calm before the storm.

You don't murder a teenage boy and just walk away from the ramifications.

Oscar rejoins me a while later, but we don't talk to each other.

Once we've paid for the food and loaded it up, I climb back into Hael's car and sit in silence while Oscar starts some orchestral piece that gives me the chills. Checking the title of the song on his phone, I see that it's Heaven, We're Already Here by The Maine, only … a music-only version of the original. The sound of it gives me the chills.

“Do you have the video?” I ask as we make the turn into Aaron's quiet, little suburban neighborhood. I don't have to specify; Oscar knows what I'm talking about. The video with … Penelope. And the Thing.

They have a video; they have proof. All this time, they've held the one thing I needed in their clutches. Havoc's reaching claws have no qualms about drawing blood from the innocent.

They're using Penelope's pain to keep the police at bay.

They're using mine.

Oscar says nothing, pulling into the driveway and then handing me his iPad.