“Victor isn't getting out of this!” I shout, losing my shit for a second. The last few months have given me a lot to take in. I act so badass on the outside, but buried deep down, there's a broken little girl crying her shattered heart out. That doesn't make me weak, though. No, instead it makes me stronger. I have to remember that. If you're just steel through and through, you'll sink. “He gets final say in the price. You didn't want Aaron to have me if you couldn't, is that it?”

“Bernadette,” Aaron repeats, reaching out to take my arm. His fingers burn where he touches me, but I don't pull away. Instead, I turn to look at him, wondering how many more secrets I can take before I start to lose it. “Let me get my shoes on and we'll walk and talk, okay?”

I tear my arm away from him and turn toward the quiet street instead, moving through the grass to put some space between myself and Vic.

“For what it's worth, this particular incident wasn't just Victor's fault,” Oscar says, and I glance back to see that Vic's already gone. Oscar stares back at me from behind the lenses of his glasses, as unreadable as always. “Some boys just don't know how to share their toys,” he murmurs, moving into the house before I can respond.

What the actual fuck is that supposed to mean?

I stare after him for a moment, until Aaron steps outside in brown work boots with no laces, his jeans low-slung. He's in the process of pulling a clean, white t-shirt over his head. My eyes watch as the tight fabric clings to the hard planes of his chest, his erect nipples impossible to miss. He tugs the shirt into place, noticing me watching him, and flashes a small smile. It's a sad smile, though. It'd have to be, to pass between me and him with any sort of genuine feeling.

We've been through a lot, Aaron Fadler and me.

“I brought my wallet,” he says as he comes up beside me, tucking a brown leather square into his back pocket. “We can stop and grab a milkshake or something.”

I snort.

“You're still trying too hard to be the good guy,” I tell him with a small shake of my head. “We aren't in junior high anymore. We're not going to stop and get a shake at the fucking soda fountain.”

“Why not?” Aaron asks, pausing beside me. “What's wrong with that?”

“That's just not who we are anymore,” I say, remembering a time when we were both relatively … normal. I look away, the wind catching strands of pink-tinged blond hair and swirling it around my face.

“See, that's where you're wrong, Bernie,” Aaron says quietly. I turn to find him staring at me with an intensity I wasn't sure he was capable of. On the inside, I'm still waiting for him to stand up to Vic for me, to fight for us. On the outside, I give him nothing, despite the desperate pleading in his stare. “We might live in the dark, but that doesn't mean we're not allowed to enjoy the moonlight.”

With another scoff, I turn away and start down the sidewalk. With his long legs, it doesn't take Aaron long to catch up to me.

“That's something the girls have taught me,” he says, tucking inked fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. He almost looks his seventeen years when he does that, hunching over slightly. Most days, I'd peg him in his mid-twenties. Guess that's what hardship and violence will do to a person. We age faster than most. “You have to find happiness wherever you can, whenever you can, because you never know when you might be sailing into a storm.”

I walk faster, acting like I'm annoyed at him and his stupid metaphors. Little does he know, I like metaphors. The world is too complicated sometimes. It's much more palatable if you break it down into pretty words and flowery phrases.

“Bernadette,” Aaron repeats, reaching out to grab my arm. I try to tear away from him, but he doesn't let me go, yanking me close so that we're chest to chest. I look up into his face and something dark clogs my throat. You're not allowed to look at me like that, I think, heart thundering. You're not allowed to look at me like I matter, not after what you did. “Being a part of Havoc has to mean something.” He pauses, but he never takes his eyes off of mine. “There has to be a sacrifice of some kind, or it's just a meaningless oath.”

“Yeah?” I quip, trying to swallow past the darkness clogging my mouth. It's thick and cloying, and it tastes like ash on my tongue. Maybe this is what Aaron meant when he said that to me? Because it feels like my mouth is coated in charcoal. “What was my sacrifice then?”

Aaron's face softens, and he reaches up an inked hand to cup my cheek.

“You always wanted a normal life; now you’ll never have one,” he says quietly, almost reassuringly, like he expects this revelation to rock me. “That's all you ever wanted, Bernadette.” I shove his hand away, but Aaron just puts it on the curve of my waist instead. “And all I ever wanted was you.”

“Whose idea was it?” I ask, shaking all over. I have that urge to start running again. If I wasn't worried about the Charter Crew picking me up off the side of the road, I might do just that. “For you to give me up.”

“All of them,” Aaron says, sighing and finally dropping his hands to his sides. I hate to admit how empty and lonely I feel without him touching me. “You've seen how it works, when we come up with a price.”

“You could've said no,” I snap back, all of that old hurt and anger rushing to the surface. No matter how many times I try to pretend like it doesn't affect me anymore, it's a lie. I'm not sure I'll ever truly heal from that pain. “You could've walked away.”

Aaron turns his head and puts a tattooed hand over his mouth, closing his eyes.

But just as I've told him before that I could never go to Nantucket, he could never pass up on Havoc's protection for his sister and cousin. We're both just repeating the dreams we had for each other, dreams that are too far from reality to ever come true.

“They're your friends,” I choke out, on the verge of tears again. For two years, I didn't cry. I missed Pen with every breath I took, with every step, every heartbeat, but I didn't cry. I can't seem to stop doing just that now. Like I said, it must be a purge of some sort, a chance for my rattled spirit to expel all of that darkness out through my mouth. “They could've helped you without bringing you into the gang.”

“We're not a gang, Bernie, we're a family,” Aaron says as he drops his hand to his side. There's a tattoo on his right bicep that I've seen before, but that I've refused to acknowledge. It's my name, written in cursive across a red heart for all the world to see. I haven't let myself really look at it until now. Because it means too much. Because me being in Havoc means that Aaron and I … don't have to be apart anymore.

Havoc is a family.

I'm a part of that family.

Aaron is a part of that family.

“These things are signed and sealed in blood; they cannot be undone.” That's what Oscar said, isn't it? Aaron and I are inextricably tied now. Forever and always.

“Why couldn't they help you without giving me up?” I ask, and this time, I just acknowledge the fact that I'm crying again. I must be about to start my period, I think, but that's such a stupid copout and I know it. “They knew how happy we were together; they could see it. Vic was jealous.” This last part comes out as sharp as a whiplash. Aaron looks back at me and nods.