It was my fault that we came here, a place arguably worse than home.

I had no idea how bad Eric Kushner was, no fucking idea.

“I want to kill him,” I say, looking up at Oscar. He doesn’t seem surprised. Instead, he unzips his pants and my eyes go wide. If he seriously thinks something sexual is happening between us in this disgusting hellhole of a room, I may very well take the knife that’s still clutched in my hands and cut his dick off.

So … the reason nothing sexual could happen between you is because of the setting, Bernie? And not because he hates you, and you hate him?

Hate sex is pretty amazing though, right?

Instead of propositioning me, Oscar turns and pisses all over the wall. You wouldn’t think someone could look arrogant or sexy taking a piss, but somehow, in his suit and tattoos, he does. His obvious disrespect and hatred for Eric doesn’t hurt either.

My eyes find his fingers, holding his cock, and it’s impossible to miss the tattoos on it.

An inked cock. A pierced cock.

Huh.

When he’s finished, Oscar fixes his pants, and then retreats to the attached restroom to wash his hands.

“Let’s burn it down,” I say, after shoving to my feet and stumbling over to the doorway. At this point, I’d gladly do just that—with both Eric and his father inside—and then fuck Oscar in the ashes. It takes me a minute to realize the significance of that thought. Not the burning Eric and his dad alive part, but the fucking Oscar part.

“In good time, Bernadette,” he tells me, lathering his hands up with careful efficiency and then drying them on a nearby hand towel. “In good time.”

Oscar turns back toward me, studying me like he's never seen me before, and then proceeds to breeze past me and down the hall. I wander after him, lost in a daze. As I walk, I break things. A vase, a framed picture, a stabbed oil painting. I don't steal anything though. I want Eric to know that the motive here wasn't theft. Besides, I don't want anything from this place. Every item in here is tainted goods.

We hit up every room, and as we go, Oscar collects a few things here and there.

Once we're done, we head right back out the front door, and I watch as Oscar locks the house up tight. Instead of getting on the bike however, he opens one of the saddlebags and pulls out two cans of red spray paint. Across the street, one of the neighbors is mowing their lawn and watching us curiously.

“Leave a message,” Oscar tells me, nodding his head and shaking up the cans in his hands before passing one over to me. I take it from him, studying the color printed on the label. Violently Red. Appropriate. “Something that'll make him think twice about reporting the break-in.”

It only takes me a second to figure it out.

I take the top off the can and hand it over to Oscar, stepping up to the pristine white of the garage door and starting on the first word. He waits patiently behind me, watching as I leave my dark mark in the heart of suburbia.

“Hey!” the neighbor calls, moving across the street, his overalls covered in grass. “What the hell are you kids doing? Knock that off.” Oscar reaches into his jacket and pulls out his revolver, drawing the hammer back before pointing it at the man. He glances lazily in his direction.

“Be quiet and bear witness,” he tells him as the man's eyes go wide. I finish off the first can and trade Oscar for the full one. When I'm finished, I step back to examine my handiwork. “Read it aloud for us,” Oscar muses, tilting his head to one side.

“I …” the man starts, his voice quivering. As soon as we're done here, he's going to call the cops, most definitely. Guess that puts a bit of a wrench into our plans. I decide I don't give a shit. “I … I fuck …” the man continues, choking on the awful words.

“I'm getting impatient,” Oscar purrs, pushing the gun against the side of the man's head. “Say it.”

“Kids,” the man chokes out, falling to his knees in the grass. Oscar puts the gun away and nods briskly.

“Before you call the police, think about me coming back to your house and burning it to the ground with you inside of it. Otherwise, we have no qualms with you, just your pedophile neighbor. Something to think about.” Oscar chucks the empty spray cans into the saddlebag, closes it, and pulls the key from his pocket.

We climb onto the bike together and take off.

Oscar offers me the first small kindness he's ever granted by pretending he doesn't see me cry.

“How did it go today?” Vic asks, standing outside the front door to Aaron's place, his big arms crossed over his broad chest. His ebon eyes track my every movement, taking me in, absorbing me. We just stare at each other, and it becomes obvious that fighting this attraction between us isn't going to work. I can't just stand here and pretend like I don't want to forgive him for the things he's done.

“Why did you send us together?” I ask him as Oscar pauses beside me. He smells like cinnamon, something I never expected from him. That's a warm, homey sort of smell, and Oscar Montauk is anything but warm and homey. “You know how we feel about each other.”

Victor just stares down at me, chewing on a piece of gum, and looking at me like he'd very much like to throw me against the wall and ravage me. I almost wish he would. I just … it's only been a week since the Halloween party. One week since I saw the video. Since Vic told me he was the only one who wanted me to be a part of Havoc. One fucking week since he told me that the Kali thing was more for my ‘benefit’ than hers.

“We're family, Bernadette,” Vic says, looking up and away, and appearing far more regal than he has any right to. “The two of you are going to have to deal with your shit sometime, don't you think?” He pauses for a moment and then looks back at me.

It's impossible to miss the double meaning in his words.

“Why did Aaron dump me?” I ask him, tilting my head to one side. Maybe today isn't the best day to broach this subject, especially considering I've already picked a metaphorical scab and find myself bleeding a red as violent as the color of that spray paint. “When he joined Havoc, I mean. Why dump me? Clearly, you guys are okay with dating. Hael dated Brittany. So what the hell is up with that?”

Vic exhales and leans his head back against the side of the house as Oscar stands silently just behind and to the right of me.

“Not everything is my fault, you know?” Victor starts, closing his eyes.

“Yes, it is,” I retort, crossing my arms under my breasts and wishing Oscar wasn't standing so close or listening so intently. “You're the boss, Vic. All the positives and negatives of that apply to you. So it is your fault. Aaron joined Havoc; I lost him.” My nostrils flare as I stare at Vic, waiting for an explanation that I know is only going to make my shitty day worse, rather than better. “Why? Why couldn't you just let him have me.”

“Everything comes at a price, even joining Havoc.” Vic turns back to me and opens his eyes. “You know that, Bernadette.”

“So, Aaron's price was to dump me?” I ask, my hands curving into fists. The front door opens and there he is, the man in question, watching me from gold-green eyes.

“Bern,” he starts, resting a hand against the doorjamb. “Let's go for a walk, okay?”