I stand up, ready to fight. It's just what I do; it's in my nature.

“Kick his ass, Bernie,” Callum murmurs, pushing his hood back and revealing a sea of golden blond hair, streaked with honey and amber. He's honestly way too pretty to be a gangbanger. “He fucking insulted you. Beat him up.”

“Yes, by all means, Bernadette, beat me up.” Oscar puts his tablet aside and stands up, smirking at me. He clearly doesn't see me as a threat. I glance over at the couch where Vic's sitting, but he's watching impassively, like he doesn't care much either way.

Fine then.

I'd like to punch Oscar anyway, just to prove I can.

I'm not the same girl they picked on all those years ago.

Exhaling, I study Oscar's tall, lithe form. He's got a thin build, but he's bulked it up with serious muscle. I can see that, even through the white button-down he's wearing. He's at least taken his jacket off, and rolled up his sleeves, so I can see some of his tattoos.

“Can you take a punch?” I ask, raising a brow. “Because this is gonna hurt.”

“Try me.” Oscar just stands there, this infuriating column of grace and poise. I watch him for a moment, scoff, and then start to turn away like I've given up before launching myself at his midsection and knocking him back into the chair. He's so surprised that he lets me get that far, but I don't land the punch. He stops it just a fraction of an inch from his glasses, squeezing my hand in his fist.

“Guys have been going after my glasses since I was eight years old. You should've picked a different place to punch.”

“Like your balls?” I ask, and then I slam my knee down and into his crotch. Oscar's face tightens up, but that's the only emotion he shows as the other boys adjust themselves and lean in for the show. Money exchanges hands.

Apparently, this is a bet now.

“Twenty on me!” I shout, and then Oscar is throwing me to the floor and pinning me there. I let him get that far, aiming for his balls again. I'm sorry, but when you're small and vulnerable, you'll hit whatever you can get. I've heard guys mumble dumb shit about how it's dishonorable or uncool or what-the-fuck-ever, but the point is, if someone's hurting me, I figure I have carte blanche to do whatever I need to stop them.

“Deal.” Vic's cool calm voice cuts through the rage and goes straight to my brain. But then Oscar blocks my kick with his own leg, putting himself off-balance in the process. We roll, and I end up on top, throwing a hard punch at his throat.

He stops this one, too, but I get a lot closer. Adrenaline surges through me as he tries to buck me off. If he gets me under him again, I'll lose. Hands-down, I will lose. My fight or flight instincts kick in—but it's broken because I only ever fight, never flee—and I wrap my fingers around Oscar's throat. He's able to get a good grip on my wrists, but I have the advantage of gravity. That, and the advantage of being perpetually underestimated.

I push down hard on his throat, and he fights back with everything he has, trying to knock me off his chest. But while I'm strong, I'm also much smaller than him, and fairly light. He's bucking, but I'm not going anywhere. It's easy for me to just ride this out. He can't use my own weight against me.

After about thirty seconds, I feel hands on my arms, and Hael and Callum are hauling me back while Oscar rolls onto his side, coughing and choking and holding his throat. Aaron is looking at me like I'm a crazy person.

“Holy sweet baby Jesus,” Hael purrs as I tear from their grips and pace the floor like a caged animal. “That turned me on so hard. You're not like the usual simpering brats we bring back here, are you?”

“You made a deal, and you can't take it back,” I snarl, turning and looking at all five guys in return. Oscar is staring at me with this strange mixture of fascination, frustration, and lust. He licks his lips as he forces himself into a sitting position, still coughing. “You thought you caged a kitty cat? You got a fucking cougar. Watch my claws when you take me to bed.” I start toward the front door, because if I don't walk or run this anger off, it'll get the best of me, and then I pause, glancing back and meeting Vic's bemused gaze. “And you guys owe me a hundred bucks.”

Callum’s laughter follows me all the way down the block.

About an hour later, I head back and find Aaron waiting for me on the front porch. He doesn't look very happy to see me, covered in ink and bullshit. I'm not sure I've ever hated anyone quite the same way I hate him. And trust me: I hate a lot of people. I hate more people than I like, that's for damn sure.

“Why are you wasting your time with us?” Aaron asks, sounding bored and tired. He smokes a cigarette with two fingers dipped entirely in ink. There are very few places on his body that are left bare, not even his cock. Trust me: I've seen it all. “You should've taken off when you had the chance, gone to live with that grandmother of yours.”

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” I challenge, clenching my hands into fists at my sides as he turns his green-gold gaze my direction. Liar. Cheater. Hypocrite. He's worse than all the others. At least they accept the fact that their feathers are black, that their realm is hell, that they spew fire and shit flames.

Aaron still believes he craps rainbows and wears white wings.

“Like that?” he asks, rising up from the plastic chair on the porch. “Hell no. I've wanted you since we were kids.” He takes a drag on his cigarette and offers me the pack with his other hand. I don't take it. I don't want to get closer to him than I have to.

“You're a monster,” I tell him, and he shrugs his big shoulders, tucking the pack into the rear pocket of his dirty denim jeans. They cup his ass too tight, emphasize the long beautiful lines of his legs.

“Maybe. But you're an idiot. You had a chance to escape this place, and instead, you chose to dig in deep, just for a little taste of vengeance. It won't be as sweet as you think, cupcake. In fact …” Aaron saunters over to me and pauses, looking down at me with a dark frown, smelling like tobacco and secrets. “You'll find it leaves the taste of ash in your mouth; it's almost obscene.” He cups my jaw, and runs his thumb along my lower lip. “And you won't like it when Victor takes you to bed. He's a rough, angry sort of lover.” I turn my face away with a scowl. “I'm trying to convince him to give you to me, but he's determined to have you.”

“I'd rather fuck him than you,” I say, still staring at the dirt because it's a million times better than looking at Aaron's face. When I turn back, I shoulder him out of the way and head inside.

“You were almost late,” Vic says, crossing his huge arms over his chest. He doesn't smile. “You wouldn't have liked to see what would've happened if you were late.”

“Let's just get this damn thing over with, shall we?” I quip, and Vic scoffs.

“Suit yourself,” he says, and he heads outside. He's got a motorcycle waiting, some badass piece of machinery that's way outside the pay grade of someone who lives in a busted-ass house on the wrong side of town. “You'll ride bitch seat,” he tells me, gesturing to the rear seat as Hael squeezes his big body into the driver's side door of his classic car, that cherry red beauty that makes me wet just looking at it.