“Bernadette, I need you to listen to me,” Vic says, but I ignore him, getting out the leftovers, and opening a fresh pack of flour tortillas. I turn the gas stove on and then throw a tortilla directly onto the burner. It cooks fast that way, and there's no oil involved. Win-win. Victor watches me as I pretend he doesn't exist. Pretend being the key word. I could never truly forget about Vic, no matter how hard I tried. Shit, I'm wearing the guy's family heirloom on my finger. “We never meant to keep that video from you. I'd always intended on showing you, but it got lost in the hustle and bustle of everything else. There's so much, Bernadette. So damn much. We're taking this one step at a time.”

“Why does it seem like everyone else in Havoc wanted me gone?” I ask, lifting my eyes up to look at Vic. He repositions himself on the opposite side of the peninsula, putting his palms atop the counter and leaning in to look at me. “But not you. According to every other asshole in Havoc, my being here was your idea.”

“Let’s talk about the video,” Vic says, redirecting the conversation and making me grit my teeth. “You're upset, understandably so. What you saw, no person should ever have to witness. But we didn't intentionally hide that from you, and we never lied.”

“You had the video for years and did nothing with it,” I repeat, feeling my eyes begin to sting, my lips quiver. I don't want to cry. I cried enough yesterday. But somehow, with my sister dead and gone, lost in the claws of a monster that makes Havoc look like good guys by comparison, it doesn't seem like I can truly cry enough. It'll never be enough, not when it comes to Pen. She was my older sister, my best friend, the only family I had that truly cared about me.

And now she's gone.

And I've sold my soul to see justice. My body. My heart. My dignity.

“I explained that to you yesterday,” Vic says softly. “And we did do something with it; Neil has known all along that we have that video. We leveraged it against him so that he’d keep his fucking hands off of you. We didn’t know Pen was going to die the next day. Nobody could’ve known that.” There's something about the tenderness in his voice that really gets me, cuts right through the flesh and bone of my body and delves into my soul. I'm bleeding again, just splashing crimson everywhere, and I don't know what to do about it.

That's what sets me off, how gentle and vulnerable he sounds.

No.

I'm not letting him or any of the others pull the wool over my eyes again.

I throw the tortilla on a plate and then lift my eyes up to meet Vic's.

“You're right,” I tell him, and he cocks a brow, seemingly pleased with himself. But if he thought things would be that easy, then he doesn't know Bernadette Blackbird for shit. “I do love him.”

“What?” Vic barks on the end of a harsh laugh. He's forgotten about his statement from just a few minutes ago.

“Aaron,” I repeat, putting another tortilla on the burner and shrugging my shoulders like it doesn't matter. But it does. It matters in innumerable ways, too many to count or quantify. It matters because that statement isn't just a way to make Vic hurt; it's an admission to myself. Seeing Aaron covered in blood, his face ashen, his lips pale, that was a wakeup call for me.

Nothing lasts forever.

And a lie you tell yourself can be just as damaging as one you tell to somebody else.

I love Aaron Fadler, and I've never stopped loving him.

That doesn't mean I forgive him or that I want to get back together, but it's something.

“I love Aaron,” I repeat again, loving the way Vic's jaw clenches, the muscle in his neck ticking as his pulse picks up, fueled by jealous rage. I love it, too. And I'm not ashamed of that. I want him to hurt the way I'm hurting right now. See, told you we were both toxic.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asks me, his voice just this side of a snarl. If I weren’t certain he was in love with me, too, I'd be scared right now. I mean, if I had anything left to fear, that is.

“Because I want you to get out,” I tell him, flipping over the next tortilla and starting another. “I want you to leave so I can spend time with Aaron without you.” I'm being a petty bitch right now. I know I am, and I don't care. Why should I? The boys have wounded me in an irreparable way, shattered my fragile trust, twisted my reality.

“Is that so?” Vic growls, coming around the counter. My breath catches as he gets too close to me, pressing his body against my back, putting his big hands on my hips. I hate how much I love it, how much I crave him. “You want me to leave so you can fuck his crippled ass on the sofa?”

He thinks he's being cute here.

I'm most definitely not.

“That was the plan,” I lie. I'm not up to having sex with anyone right now. Aaron might not be the leader of this sordid club of assholes, but he knew about the video, too. They all did. “So take your hard-on away from my back and fuck all the way off with it.”

Vic's hands tighten on my hips, and I have to close my eyes to keep from reacting to that. If he gets even the slightest inkling of how much I want him, he'll push me, and I won't be able to say no.

A low, sinful laugh escapes Vic's lips, ruffling the hair on the back of my neck.

“You test my patience, Bernadette.”

“The feeling's mutual,” I quip back, putting the last tortilla on the plate. I'm trapped here, penned in by his arms, desperate to escape but also … desperate to stay. I close my eyes on the realization. You're in love with Victor, Bernadette. You have been for years. No matter how nasty he is, how cruel, how inhuman … it doesn't matter.

Love knows no boundaries.

“You could've had a much different life than this,” Vic whispers, bending low and putting his head up against the side of my face. He rubs against me, teasing my smooth cheek with his stubbled one. It should be sweet, the way he's nuzzling me, but instead, all I can think of is a lion, maned and wild, rubbing up against his female.

It's a possessive move, a dominant one.

He wants to own me. Little does he know that a lioness can never be bought or sold.

I glance over, putting our faces precariously close together.

“They all wanted that for you,” Victor says quietly, dark eyes simmering. “An escape. A different life. A chance to be something better than a gangbanger.”

“They all …” I repeat slowly, thinking of the other Havoc Boys.

“Except for me. Some men sleep and dream. Some men have nightmares. You’re a nightmare, Bernadette, a beautiful nightmare.” Vic grabs my arm and leans in even closer, sending my pulse racing. “We’re both nightmares; we belong together.”

He kisses me, but it isn't a nice kiss. It's a move meant to seal this deal, mark me, stamp me with his name. I tear away from him and he pauses briefly to turn off the burner, glancing over at me as my heart races and I struggle to find my breath.

“That's what happened, Bernadette. We met up to discuss your price. They fought against me. They demanded we give you some bullshit, made-up price, some nonsense.” He laughs again, and the sound is that of a villain, staking his claim on the princess’ heart. Just like Callum. None of these boys are princes, not even Aaron. “We could've … no, no …” He rubs at his chin for a moment, the HAVOC tattoo on his knuckles making me shiver. No part of me believes I'm exempt from having that mark needled into my skin. “We would've done all the things you asked of us, and then set you free.”