“Assuming Vaughn is there,” Vic begins, and Oscar interrupts.

“He's there.” His words are absolute, like he truly believes he's never made a mistake in his entire life. “But the real question is if he's alone or not, if he brought the nurse, or if he's got a new girl.”

“What about the nurse?” I ask, trying to remember her name. Whitney, was it? Whitney … something. The whole Prescott student body calls her the Nurse of Yes-Scott High, which, if you know that Principal Vaughn's first name is Scott, is actually a pretty clever saying. There's not a damn kid on campus who hasn't overheard yes, Scott, yes! coming from the nurse's office on occasion.

“What about her?” Vic asks, still not looking at me. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's glaring at the back of Hael's head.

“If she is there, then what?” I press. “Does she get hers, too?”

“She wasn't on your list,” Oscar says matter-of-factly, “and we have too much on our plates to take on charity work. If the nurse is there, we'll knock her out and tie her to a tree until we're finished with Principal Vaughn.”

I purse my lips, because they all know that Nurse Whtiney is just as culpable in all this shit as Vaughn is. She recruits girls, too, vulnerable girls who come to her to ask questions about birth control, or STDs, or finger-shaped bruises she should be reporting. Instead, she picks out the weak ones and coerces them into the cam business to make porn for her and her boss. She drives a Lexus, by the way. Should've had Hael blow that one up, too.

“And if there's a girl?” I continue, turning to look at Oscar. Vic might be the boss, but Oscar's the logistics of the Havoc operation. He pushes his glasses up his nose with a tattooed middle finger and smirks at me.

“We give her the keys to the Kia Sportage and send her on her way. You don't think we'd hurt an innocent girl, do you?” he taunts, and my hands curl into fists. “I mean, not unless we were hired to do it.”

“Fuck you,” I growl back, and Oscar laughs, this genteel laugh that's so at odds with his tattoos. “Now what's the plan with Vaughn? Be direct, remember?”

Oscar leans forward, his raven-black hair sliding across his forehead, gray eyes catching the light from the dash up front.

“We're going to put him in his underwear and degrade his ancient ass on a live feed.” My brows go up, but I have to admit there's a certain sense of poetic justice in Vaughn's sentence. “After that, if he's lucky, we release him into the woods with no phone, no pants, and no shoes. We'll set the cabin on fire, and then send his signed confession to the cops.”

“How are you going to get him to confess?” I ask, and Oscar doesn't hesitate before pulling his revolver out of his jacket. He smiles at me as he slides his thumb along the barrel, but it's not a very nice smile, not at all.

“With this.” The matter-of-fact tone in his voice never changes.

“Anything about the plan you don't like?” Vic asks me, and a shiver takes over me. The memories of him touching me aren't nearly as faded around the edges as I'd like. Instead, when he talks, they burn. His body pushing inside of mine, taking over me, his fingers dancing a dirty rhythm over my core.

I grit my teeth.

“I like it,” I say, glancing over at Callum. He's leaning against the window, watching me with those blue eyes. I remember in elementary school how we had to do square dancing lessons on Fridays. I hated it. I used to cry and sit in the corner with my hands over my ears. And then one day, I saw Callum dancing with another little girl from our class. He looked so happy doing it that I got up and hesitantly moved over to stand near him. He held out his hand and smiled at me, and I joined in. The dancing wasn't so bad as I'd thought, and for a while there, my life got a little less dark.

I'll never forget that.

Doubt he remembers that moment though.

“After this, can we get something to eat?” Cal asks, and Hael and Aaron both groan.

“Seriously?” Aaron snaps, just before he reaches over to turn off the stereo. He turns onto a gravel road and shuts off the headlights, leaving us in total blackness. How he navigates that winding, mountain road is beyond me, but I'm on pins and needles the whole time, my fingernails digging into the sides of my seat.

A good twenty minutes later, we make a slow, tight turn between two large trees, and I spot the white Kia Sportage under the dim glow of a porch light.

“Bingo,” Hael murmurs, and the tension in the van seems to snap, a new energy taking over the group, just like the night we broke into Oak Valley Prep.

“Time to kick some ass,” Cal says with a low, hoarse laugh as Vic throws open the sliding door, grabs a black duffel from the floor, and hops out. I follow after him, unsure of what my role here is, exactly.

“Break the door down,” Vic says, slinging the duffel over his shoulder. “More impactful that way.”

“Consider it done,” Hael says, and both he and Callum move forward and up the front steps of the porch. There's only one car here tonight, so I'm guessing Miss Yes-Scott isn't entertaining her boss tonight.

Both boys put their boots up to the door and kick in unison, knocking the wood off its hinges and sending it crashing to the floor. A high-pitched scream follows, accompanied by Vaughn's distinct bellow.

“What on earth—” he starts, followed by a grunt. I chase after Vic, Aaron, and Oscar, stepping on the broken door and finding a cozy cabin lit with a fire, Principal Vaughn bent over and already bleeding from the face, and Ivy freaking Hightower naked on a bed in the corner.

She's covering her body with a blanket, her painted lips open in surprise as she gapes at us.

“Clothes, keys, now get the fuck out,” Vic says, tossing a pile her way and snatching some keys off the counter of the kitchenette near the door. He chucks those in her direction, but she's so out of it that she doesn't catch them before they hit her in the face.

“What's going on here?” Vaughn manages to grind out before Cal and Hael shove him into a chair next to the fireplace. He looks up, red running from his nostrils, one hand trying to cup the liquid as it drips from his chin.

Vic tosses the duffel onto the floor and moves over to stand in front of our principal, bending low, and staring the older man straight in the face.

“You've conned your last girl, Vaughn.” Vic smiles, and it's even less pretty than Oscar's. “And you've fucked with Havoc for the last time.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Scott Vaughn asks, beginning to shake. It doesn't escape my notice that his first thought is that he's going to die. That's the power of Havoc.

“Probably not,” Vic says, standing up straight as Ivy yanks her dress over her head. There are handcuffs dangling from the headboard, a pink vibrator lying atop the white blankets, and a camera on a tripod near the end of the bed.

The footage is streaming onto a laptop that's sitting on the counter. Oscar moves over to it right away and cuts the feed.

“It's not live,” he calls out, and Vic grunts.

“After we're done here,” Victor says, cocking his head to the side. “You might wish you were dead though. Boys.”