This brings everything together for us.
It might not be ending the way we’d wanted it to—with some brilliant coup against Maxwell and Ophelia—but it’s ending. It’s a reprieve of sorts. Five months left until we get Victor’s money. Just five months. We can do that, can’t we? Even if we have to flee the area temporarily—not an ideal situation but a possibility—we can last that long.
We can do this.
The boys check the hallway before ushering the girls into the elevator, and then we wait behind in the lobby while they file outside. We don’t need anyone to see us together, not today. It might be the day of the raid, but it’s also a day when Maxwell and Ophelia will be on campus and within striking distance.
After they leave, we wait an appropriate amount of time before following them at a distance, just to make sure they connect with their teachers and disappear into the hordes of identically-dressed children being shepherded down the hill toward the massive outdoor amphitheater where the graduation is taking place.
Frankly, I wouldn’t bother going to the ceremony at all if it weren’t for the raid. You don’t have to attend to get your diploma, you know. But we show up as we’re supposed to and I spot Trinity Jade glaring at me from the grassy area behind the stage, the way she always does.
Just as an extra fuck-you to her, I curl my arms around Victor’s neck and press our robed bodies together, taking his mouth the way a queen should always take her king’s. Possessively and without mercy. After a moment, I have to stop and pry myself away because I can feel the thick length of his erection digging at me when our bodies rub together.
“Oh, come on, your majesty,” he teases, taking my hand and giving my wedding ring a lick. “We can sneak off for a quickie, can’t we?” Only he knows that we can’t because we have no idea when the raid is going to happen exactly or how things might go beforehand. The situation today is too edgy, too up in the air.
So, instead of sneaking off to screw like rabbits the way I wish we could, we allow our teachers to guide us out from behind the stage to the sound of polite clapping, and take our seats in wooden folding chairs decorated with bows and ribbons and fresh flowers.
“It looks like a wedding, not a graduation,” Aaron murmurs, but he takes his seat beside me anyway, and we settle in for what’s likely going to be a boring and uneventful series of performances … until it just isn’t anymore.
No part of me thinks Sara Young will come with guns a’blazing into a school, so I’m guessing the raid is going to play out like one of the children’s onstage performances. Agents will come in, targets will be located, people will be arrested. Nobody expects a shootout—not even the boys. But we do, of course, have guns hidden in our cars, just in case.
Hot early summer sunshine falls across my face and I lift up a hand to shield my eyes as I glance back at the ascending seats behind us. They’re filled with women in designer gowns—I wish there were men in designer gowns, too, but Oak Valley is too stuffy and patriarchally repressed for anything as forward-thinking as that—and men in suits. It’s so … banal, so expected, reeking of untamed wealth and profane sophistication. Just looking at those people bothers me so much that I turn back around.
Since Oak River begins with preschool, we’re forced to sit here and suffer through several earnest but heartless performances from the youngest children. Ashley is a joy to watch, if only because she has big floppy chestnut curls that make me think about Aaron. After her song is over, she files down to the grass in front of us to sit on blankets with the other kids her age.
Havoc never rests, so even as we’re sitting there and watching all of this, I notice the boys’ eyes scanning the crowd, checking the shadows, listening and waiting and wondering. Oscar keeps his phone on his lap, scrolling through texts from our crew.
During a particularly painful performance from the first graders, I turn around once again to see if I can’t spot Ophelia and Maxwell in the crowd. It takes me a few minutes—especially since I’ve only ever seen Maxwell Barrasso in photos—but then I spy them near the back row.
Ophelia is the one who catches my attention first. Likely, because she bears such a striking resemblance to her son that my eyes can pick her out, even in the midst of a well-dressed bourgeois crowd.
She’s wearing a bright red dress, the color striking against her skin, but ominous, too. Like, who wears red satin to a graduation? Her dark hair is coiffed into a bun on the top of her hand, a few oil-dark strands framing her face on either side. Beside her, a man that can only be Maxwell Barrasso sits, legs crossed, hands resting on his knee. He’s got on a navy-blue suit that may or may not have pinstripes—I’m too far away to tell—that screams money and power. Add in the fancy watch, the large ring on his right hand, and the bespoke brogues on his feet and it isn’t difficult to imagine that he’s the head of a gang that makes Havoc look like small potatoes.
My gaze moves away from him, searching the crowd for more familiar faces. Hael’s mom is supposed to be here along with Cal’s grandma. The Peters—Oscar’s foster family—are also supposed to be in attendance, along with Alyssa, the little girl we saved. Nobody is here for Aaron, but it doesn’t matter because he has Kara and Ashley, me and Heather, and all the rest of the Havoc Boys.
As for myself … it’d be impossible to miss someone like Breonna Keating, the only person in that gala who isn’t wearing money like it’s going out of style. Instead, I spot her because she’s also the only figure there who’s wearing an old t-shirt under an unbuttoned suit jacket. Still, she looks professional and worldly and so much worthier of the space she takes up than anybody else in that crowd.
I’m surprised at myself for how happy I am to see that she’s actually come. I mean, when I texted her and asked, she enthusiastically agreed. I’m just so used to being disappointed by people—adults in particular—that I didn’t really let myself believe it.
With a smile fixed firmly in place, I turn back around just in time to catch the beginning of Heather and Kara’s play. It’s a short piece based on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, complete with costumes and music. Kara and Heather are both stagehands, so they’re not actually in the performance which annoys the fuck out of me, but this school, like anywhere else, prioritizes people based on money and influence and power. Oil Tycoon Girl’s little sister is the lead, dressed in Dorothy’s gingham dress.
As their performance is coming to a close, Trinity Jade excuses herself and heads across the green, up the stairs, and into the bathroom. The boys watch her as she goes, and we exchange looks. As if a second performance is happening in the audience behind us, Ophelia also rises in a perfectly coordinated move to slip into the restroom.
“The fuck are they up to?” Vic wonders, and I can tell as his gaze scans the audience that he’s considering going up there to find out. Only, not two minutes later, Sara Young and John Constantine appear at the edge of the amphitheater, stealing two seats at the very end of the front row.
“This is certainly an unusual development,” Oscar murmurs, but then a few minutes later, Trinity and Ophelia emerge from the bathroom. Ophelia takes her seat while Trinity rejoins us; Heather and Kara file offstage with their class to sit in front of us.
Everything seems to be progressing as it should. We sit there for two more hours, watching each grade give their presentation before the intermission is called and guests file up the steps to a light catered lunch, sitting under awnings and reclining in metal bistro chairs.
Our girls remain in the uniformed anonymity of their respective classes as they head back to the Oak River cafeteria for food. As far as what we do, well, we sit and wait and theorize on what Ophelia and Trinity might be up to or why Sara and Constantine are walking around like they’re just another set of parents here to support their kid—or, really, most of the parents are here because they enjoy this delicate social dance of politicking and backstabbing and wealth flaunting.
Regardless, we finally get ourselves some plates and fan out
in pairs to make our rounds. Cal and Hael visit their grandmother and mother respectively while Oscar and Aaron stop by the Peters’ table. Victor and I decide to visit Ms. Keating before we bother with Ophelia.
That bitch can wait.
“You came,” I say, sounding far more like a seventeen-year-old girl than I mean to.
Ms. Keating smiles, and I finally realize what her shirt says: Abolish the Electoral College. Aww, look, I’m not the only person who thinks politics aren’t just something to be left at the door when they involve human rights and dignities. Cute.
“I came,” she agrees, her hair twisted into small braids and decorated with tiny metal rings. “Bernadette, I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you here today. Didn’t I tell you that you’d make it?”
Vic grunts and digs his hands into the pockets of his robe, stepping away like he’s actually interested in the array of food on the nearby table. Really, he’s just giving me a minute which I appreciate.
“You did,” I agree, reluctantly, and with a bit of Prescott sass. “It wasn’t easy.”
“Nothing worth having ever is,” Ms. Keating agrees, echoing a similar thought I’ve had more than once in the past several months. I decide that if we really do make it to Vic’s inheritance, and she still wants to teach, we should bribe the local schoolboard to make Ms. Keating principal of Prescott High and give her a huge paygrade. We could do that, if we wanted. Havoc can do fucking anything. “And I appreciate you inviting me. I was sorry to hear about your mother.”
“I wasn’t,” I retort, and I don’t mean it to sound so bitter or so caustic, so I just sigh instead. “I hear you were sort of awesome during the shooting?” I make it into a question, but it isn’t really. When Sara Young told me about what Ms. Keating did, I believed it. I saw her stand up to Neil for me once. That took huge fucking ovaries, and I’ll forever be impressed.
“Not really,” she replies just as easily, downplaying her involvement. “But if you ever need someone to talk to about anything, you always have my number. Doesn’t matter if it’s tomorrow or in ten years, I’ll be here.”
“I appreciate that.” This time, my reply is much less sassy and when she offers me up a hug, I actually accept it.
“Now that, that was a fucking sight to see,” Vic murmurs as he takes my arm and we finally, begrudgingly, make our way over to Ophelia. Maxwell is nowhere to be seen, but I expected that. On our way up here, I noticed he was waiting outside, near the door that leads back down to the amphitheater. He didn’t even look at us as we passed by. Whether that’s because he didn’t recognize us, or he just didn’t care to acknowledge us, I have no idea.
“Victor,” Ophelia greets, giving him an air kiss on either cheek and then looking over at me like I’m the scum of the earth. Her dark eyes immediately latch onto the ring resting on my finger and her beautiful mouth tips slightly down at the corners. “I see the two of you are working diligently at maintaining Trinity’s impeccable standing in the community.”
“As always,” Vic agrees, leading with a sharp, tight smile of his own. “We wouldn’t want to do anything scandalous, like allow other students to see us mid-fuck in the school gymnasium.” One of Ophelia’s perfect eyebrows twitches, but that’s a lie. We never got caught mid-fuck in the gym, just once in the girls’ locker room and even then, only by Trinity at the end of the school day.
“Well, just so long as you continue with your legal marriage to Trinity,” Ophelia says in a voice with the distinctive undertone of a threat. “Just remember that Trinity and I are the only reasons Maxwell hasn’t slaughtered each and every one of you.” She taps her finger against the tip of Victor’s nose as he scowls.
Ophelia moves away then in a swish of red satin, leaving me and Victor behind. I let out a long breath, but he’s frowning already like something’s wrong.
“You okay?” I ask, but he just shakes his head and takes off after his mother, watching her as she rejoins Maxwell outside the door and then heads back down the steps toward the amphitheater. They take their seats and Victor reluctantly pulls himself away, but not like he’s fully at ease with any of this.
We gather the rest of the boys and rejoin the group of students headed back to the lawn. It’s as we’re heading into the rows of folding chairs that we first notice that something is wrong.
“Ophelia is no longer in her seat,” Oscar grinds out, sounding frustrated by the change of plans. As we pause by our chairs and look up the towering row of steps to where Maxwell sits, we see him reach into his pocket and pull out a phone. He answers it and puts it to his ear. After a moment, he, too, stands up.
I look around for Sara and Constantine, but they’re not there either.
“Ophelia was just fucking there,” Vic growls right back, but not like he’s angry at Oscar. No, he’s clearly pissed off with himself. “In the two minutes it took us to get down here, she left?”
“Apparently.” Oscar checks his phone as Aaron goes to do the same, frowning at the sound of it buzzing in his pocket. He drops those pretty green-gold eyes to his screen and then turns a shade of pale that I equate only to the faces of corpses. Bloodless. Empty. Terrified.
His eyes lift up to mine.
“What’s wrong?” Hael asks as Callum crowds close and reads the message from over Aaron’s shoulder. His pink mouth flattens into a frown and his blue eyes go dark with violence.
“It’s from Kara,” he says, and I know instantly that this is going to be bad. “It says mare’s nest.”
“Kara, honey, where are you?” Aaron asks as we leave the amphitheater via the side path that winds up toward the dorms. He keeps his voice remarkably calm as the call connects and he’s able to get her on the line. I feel relieved, but only for about half a second. “What do you mean took her?” he repeats, and my heart plummets.
On our way out, we found Ashley with her class, in the process of filing back to their seats on the lawn. Seeing as we’re likely to get into trouble right now, we took her hand and led her up the steps to where Ms. Keating was sitting. She didn’t pester us with questions when we asked if she could watch the girl, but in her eyes, I could see that she was worried.
As rightfully she should be.
Heather.
If someone has taken Heather or hurt Heather … I refuse to let myself think about it, following Aaron with the other boys in tow. When he starts to run, we run with him.
We end up at the Oak River dormitory on the third floor, where the girls’ room is located. They have what the school calls a ‘family suite’, designed for up to four siblings to share provided they all attend the elementary school.
The door is open when we arrive and Kara is crouched inside of the wardrobe, shaking and crying. She throws herself into Aaron’s arms as soon as he opens the doors, twining her arms around his neck.
“Where is Heather?” he asks her, setting her on the edge of one of the beds and pushing her gently back so that he can look into her eyes. Aaron sweeps chestnut curls from his sister’s forehead and gives her a gentle shake. “Kara, talk to me.”
“She took her,” she repeats, sniffling and shaking her head. “We asked our teacher if we could come back to our room to get Heather a new tie since she spilled milk on hers at lunch.” My hands clench into fists at my sides as Hael rubs my back in comforting circles, trying to keep me calm the way I did for him at his parents’ house. I’m going to flay that fucking teacher alive. At the same time that thought crosses my mind, I know I can’t blame her. The campus is secure; it’s safe. There are security guards everywhere. Who would ever think something like this might happen on a sunny day like today?
“And then what?” Aaron encourages, crouching down and managing to keep himself calm as he presses his sister for information. “Who took Heather, Kara?”
She shakes her head at him again and rubs at her nose, glancing up at me like she’s ashamed of herself.
“When we heard someone trying to come in the room, Heather told me to hide,�
�� Kara explains, and I feel my knees get so weak that I’m afraid I might collapse. Hael pulls me to him, my back to his front, and keeps me standing by banding his arms around my waist. Why are you always trying to be the goddamn white knight, Heather? I think desperately, but I only love my sister all the more for trying to be a hero. That’s just who she is, like Hael or Aaron. Desperate to be a good guy in a world populated by villains. “And then this lady came in and she talked to her and called her Heather instead of Hannah.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Kara pauses and looks away, like she’s afraid to tell the rest of the story. Aaron very gently encourages her to turn back to us with his fingers on her chin.
“Heather told her she didn’t want to leave, so the lady hit her and grabbed her arm and she made her …” Kara trails off as I feel my eyes sting with angry tears. There’s only one woman on this campus who would think to take my little sister.
Just one.
“What did she look like?” Aaron presses, stroking Kara’s hair as he waits for an answer. “The woman who took Heather?”
Kara pauses for a moment and then points directly at Victor.
“Like Vic, except in a red dress.”
And then we’re all moving again. Oscar is on his phone, trying to pull up the security footage and cursing at how tightly guarded Oak Valley keeps its secrets. He and Cal start with a search of the immediate area while Aaron and Hael peel away from us to take Kara to Ms. Keating.
Vic and I head directly for the Student Parking Area where all the guest vehicles for today’s event have been left—including Maxwell and Ophelia’s. If she’s trying to get off campus, she’ll have to go there first.
On our way, we spot Trinity Jade striding down the path toward the girls’ dorm and disappearing inside. Vic and I exchange a look. We don’t need to communicate with words to know what the other is thinking.
I follow Trinity into the elevator just before it closes, Victor slipping in behind me.
Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys Book 5) Page 42