“This is like two grand in cash,” I say, glancing back up and finding that endless void that is Victor Channing staring back at me.

“Your cut of the money we stole from Donald's safe, after expenses. We keep an account for Havoc related shit.”

“Like gasoline?” I ask, and Vic's lush mouth curves into a dangerous smile.

“Like gasoline.”

He leaves the kitchen and some of the tension in the room goes with him.

“The girls are going to a party, so what's our plan for the day?” I ask, lifting my gaze from my plate to the four boys in the room with me. Hael won't look at me for whatever reason, but Oscar at least glances my way, looking bored out of his mind.

“Aaron and Hael will be trimming and prepping the marijuana in the bathroom for sale while Callum has a day off, Vic does whatever the hell he wants, and I work on your wedding plans.”

The color drains from my face, and I stifle a groan.

Right.

Wedding plans.

Fantastic.

“What's our budget?” I ask dryly, expecting him to laugh in my face. “Aren't we just going down to the courthouse?”

Instead, Oscar smirks.

“Twenty grand, and no. You and Victor will be married in a proper ceremony. Care to join me in making plans?” he asks, and my mouth falls open. “It's not a lot, in theory, but we can make a classic, elegant ceremony happen.”

“Twenty grand?” I repeat, feeling my hand sweat where it's wrapped around the fork. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” he says, and that one word, coming out of that sharp mouth of his, is bound to give me nightmares.

The majority of the morning I'm left to hang out with the girls, helping them pick out costumes for the party and arranging their hair into fancy coifs with the help of YouTube tutorials. Aaron comes by at one point and hovers in the doorway, but I guess there's still too much weirdness between us for him to want to join in.

Once he leaves with the girls, I wander downstairs and sit across from Oscar on one of the couches, my still silent phone in my hand. I figure I better turn it on before Mom tells the Thing I've disappeared with his daughter, and I end up with a SWAT team hunting my ass down.

“Problem?” Oscar asks, looking up from his laptop. The shine of the screen catches on his glasses, blocking his eyes from view. I can't tell what he's thinking on a good day, but like this, he's impossible to read.

“I need to check my messages, but I'm dreading looking at them because I just know Pamela's gonna be pissed off, and I hate dealing with her.”

“Give me the phone,” Oscar says, gesturing toward the coffee table. I set it down and slide it across. He catches it before it falls off the other side and powers it on. Meanwhile, my stomach churns, and I lift one leg up on the couch, wrapping my arms around it and wishing the damn thing would start up faster so I could just get this over with.

He stares at the phone for a moment, and then starts tapping out a text message.

Not two minutes later, he's setting the phone down on the coffee table.

“Well?” I ask as Oscar refocuses his attention on the laptop. He barely pays me any attention, like maybe he never wanted me to join his boys' club after all?

“Your mother said to get your ass home before your stepfather does or else. There was nothing after the or else portion of the conversation.” He starts typing and doesn't bother looking at me. “I wonder if it’s too gauche to use black lilies for a wedding?” This last part is mumbled, mostly to himself as he taps inked fingers against the bottom of his chin. “I wonder if I care?”

“And?” I press, my hands shaking as I think about picking the phone up again. “How did you respond to that?”

More typing, and then a very distinct pause as Oscar finally glances up.

“I told her that a woman with so much to hide shouldn't be so quick to judge and that her husband wouldn't be home anytime soon because he's fucking his new partner.”

I blink a moment to clear the shock and then lunge forward to grab my phone.

Sure enough, that's what Oscar's responded with. The color drains from my face as I read and re-read both Mom's message and Oscar's reply.

Where the hell are you? I'm starting to worry! I have to pause for a moment there to roll my eyes. Worried? She's not worried about me or Heather. We're nothing but accessories in her life, as useful or replaceable as a new necklace or a purse. Are you with that boy again? The one who hurt Neil? You're better than that, Bernadette. You are not a slut. Get your ass home before Dad does or else.

And then …

Heather's safe and attending a friend's birthday party. You, on the other hand, shouldn't be so quick to judge since your husband's fucking his hot, new partner. Doubtful he'll be home anytime soon. He's busy, after all. See you tomorrow.

I wait there for what feels like an hour, staring at the screen, expecting a reply, and getting nothing.

“She'll be too busy calling and bitching out your stepfather to respond,” Oscar says, keys clacking away.

“Is Neil really fucking his partner?” I ask and get the barest of smiles in response.

“No. She's far too classy to let a perverted, married pedophile touch her. In fact, we might use her in his downfall. But your mother doesn't know that.”

“They'll be screaming and fighting and then anger fucking all night,” I say with a grimace, leaving my phone on in case Heather needs to all me. “Thanks, that buys me another day.”

Oscar doesn't bother to respond again, so I get up and head to the kitchen for some snacks, hiding myself in Aaron's room for the rest of the day to binge The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina on Netflix.

For the first time in a while, I'm actually somewhat relaxed.

Weird, right? Considering I'm in my ex boyfriend's room in a house full of bad boys with no qualms about making others bleed.

Once it gets dark out, I make another expedition to the kitchen and find Callum coming in the front door, soaked in sweat and wearing sweatpants and a tank top. He’s carrying that damn bag of his, the one he always stuffs in his locker at the beginning of the school day. He smiles at me as he passes by.

“What’s in the bag?” I ask, tucking my fingers into the pockets of my shorts.

“My shattered hopes and dreams,” Callum quips, but he smiles as he says it, softening the blow of what I’m almost certain is the truth. He cocks his head to one side, blond hair sliding across his forehead. His arms are corded with hard muscle, and despite his smaller stature, I trust he’d be a match for Hael or maybe even Vic. Beads of sweat cling to his tattoos as he reaches up to push some hair from his face, blue eyes dark.

They don’t match his smile, those eyes. His smile says that everything is okay, but that gaze of his is too full of shadows and heartbreak. Cal takes a step forward and pauses, grimacing as he reaches out to put a palm on the wall, steadying himself.

“Work out too hard?” I ask, and he grins.

“More like … some injuries just don’t heal right,” he says as I study him for a moment. Aaron’s transformation from good boy to bad was pretty goddamn dramatic, but I think Cal’s might be worse. He was always small and shy, huddling up next to Vic on the playground. But whoever that Callum Park was, he’s gone now. In his place, there’s an entire person made of up secrets and shadows.