“Mm,” Vic says, rubbing at his chin, a sign that he’s deep in thought. “Hospitals are full of mandated reporters. A minor with a gunshot wound is bad news for us. It brings inquiries and questions and police reports.”

My head snaps around to level a glare on Havoc’s boss; I must look pretty scary, too, because he raises his eyebrows at me in mock surprise.

“We’re not letting him die,” I say as Aaron groans, his head leaned back on the cushion, eyes closed. I’m not fully certain that he’s still conscious.

“No, of course not,” Vic scoffs, like I’ve lost my damn mind. “Let’s get him in the van and take him to Whitney’s house.”

“Nurse Yes-Scott?!” I choke out, but it’s the obvious choice. She’ll have heard from Vaughn by now about what happened. She’ll know her ass is on the line. What choice will she have but to help us? Besides, she was hired at Prescott for a reason. Most schools don’t need trauma nurses with gunshot wound experience. In the southside, it’s practically a requirement. “Fuck. Fine. Let’s get him outside.”

I stand up, still shaking with the rush of adrenaline, still covered in blood.

“Oscar, you stay with the girls,” Vic commands, and I just know I’m not going anywhere either until I know they’re alright. I pull away from Aaron and walk backwards for a moment, bumping into Victor. He puts his hands on my shoulders and leans down to put his mouth near my ear. “Don’t worry about Aaron: I won’t let anything happen to him.” His lips press against the side of my neck, branding me in a way I can never wash off. “I’ll even stitch him up before we leave to stem the flow; take a quick shower and get that blood off of you.”

Even though it probably shouldn’t, his voice comforts me, and I nod, heading up the stairs and cracking the door to the girls’ room. All three of them are fast asleep, like maybe they never knew Neil was here in the first place. I stand there for several minutes, watching Heather’s chest rise and fall with steady breaths, and then I slip back out and duck into the bathroom.

Blood is not the easiest substance to wash off. It’s sticky and viscous, and it clings to the skin like paint. By the time I get out of the shower, my skin is pink and irritated, and the spot where Billie stabbed me is throbbing and oozing fresh crimson, soaking the black t-shirt I stole from Aaron’s dresser. At least you can’t see the stain, and right now, that’s good enough for me.

“You’re hurt,” Oscar says when I step out of the bathroom. He’s standing in front of me, shirtless and wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants. His tattooed chest and belly are on full display, and if circumstances were different, I’d very much appreciate the view. My breath catches as he reaches out and presses his thumb against the spot on my right sleeve, making me hiss between gritted teeth as he pulls his finger back, stained with blood. “Let’s take care of that, shall we?”

“No time. I’ll worry about it when I get back.” I move to shove past him when he reaches out and snatches my upper arm in tight fingers, making me cry out. More blood oozes out and dribbles down my arm. With his other hand, Oscar traces the wound on my face, the one I’m too afraid to look at because I know it’s going to scar.

“It’ll only take a minute,” he says, pushing me back into the bathroom and forcing me onto the closed lid of the toilet. I’m getting mad déjà vu here from when Victor stitched up my arm, looking up at Oscar’s gray eyes through the thick lenses of his glasses. I sneer at him as he pulls a first aid kit out from under the sink, but I don’t have the energy to protest. Oscar turns back to me and shoves my shirtsleeve up, making me gasp. He’s not at all gentle as he goes about inspecting the wound. “You really could use a hospital visit as well. Have that bitch nurse take a look at this while you’re over there.”

“Aaron is the one who needs help. Slap a bandage on it and let me get out of here.” This bone-weary fatigue washes over me, and my lids close of their own accord. My entire body hurts from the fight, and I’m bruised all over. Strong fingers touch the underside of my jaw, lifting my face up. I open my eyes to find Oscar staring down at me.

“Chin up, Bernadette. There is no rest for the wicked.” He releases me and tackles both wounds with an antiseptic wipe as Hael pops in the door, worrying at his lower lip. Some of the black hair dye still stains his red faux hawk as he reaches up and runs tattooed fingers through it.

“Aaron’s all loaded up in the van,” Hael says, studying me, his honey-brown eyes dark. He hesitates for a second before adding, “and he’s asking for you.” My heart twists into a knot as I watch Oscar take some antiseptic gel and squeeze it onto a cotton round. He swipes it over my face and arm then applies some bandages.

“I’ll add tetanus shot to our list of things to do,” Oscar murmurs, releasing me and stepping back to lean against the opposite wall. He crosses lean, muscular arms over his chest as I notice that his nipples are pierced with little swords. Interesting.

I stand up, yanking my shirtsleeve down, and exit the bathroom, following Hael downstairs and outside, into the crisp, fall air. Jack o’ lanterns flicker in the yard across the street, but the magic of Halloween is dead to me right now.

Victor drives us for once while I sit next to Aaron in the middle row. He’s groaning, mumbling things under his breath, but at least when I grab his hand, he squeezes back.

“Bernie,” he whispers, his head leaned back on the seat. I frown, scooting closer to him and then glancing back to check on Callum in the last row, leaned over with his hood covering his freshly washed hair.

“You okay?” I ask him, and he lifts his head up just enough to look at me, a frown darkening those perfect pink lips. He’s still holding the bat, like he can’t bear to let it go.

“I’m okay,” he replies, but I’m not sure that’s true. He killed somebody tonight. For me. He’s bound to be a little fucked-up. Callum smiles, like he can sense the direction of my thoughts. “Just to be clear: I’m not upset that Danny Ensbrook is dead. I’m upset that I did it with too many witnesses, and that I put as all at risk. I’d kill the world to save you, Bernadette.”

My cheeks flush, and I look down, running my tongue over my lower lip.

“I appreciate it,” I say, and even though our situation tonight is beyond fucked, I can’t help but like what he’s just said to me. Like I said, I’ve grown up in the dark, so I appreciate the shadows. His darkness is beautiful to me, like a night sky bereft of stars. The sun is just too bright, and it burns. I belong here, in eternal midnight.

Cal reaches up and takes my other hand, giving it a squeeze as we snake through town toward Nurse Whitney’s house. He doesn’t let go until we pull up outside a modest two-bedroom with fresh paint and a Lexus in the driveway, a vehicle that’s certainly way above the paygrade for a school nurse of any kind, most especially one from Prescott High.

Vic and Hael climb out, leaving me in the car with Aaron and Cal, and knock on the front door. Slowly, hesitantly, the door opens, and I can see a crack of light from inside. Nurse Yes-Scott was smart enough to leave the chain-lock in place, but surely, she must know that that won’t stop the Havoc Boys. If they want into her house, they’ll get in.