What has been done cannot be undone.

My contract is signed and sealed in my blood; my fingers are stamped with ink; my heart is fractured into five fragments. No matter how much I wish it weren't, one of those pieces belongs to Oscar Montauk. Always has.

Like I said when he was pushing me down onto the couch, “Since elementary school.”

He let me cheat off his tests in sixth grade; he told me he was allergic to apples, so I’d take his from him, so I always had some extra food to bring home in case Pamela forgot to feed me. How can I forget those things? How can I forget that when I asked if he were in love with me, his response was, “You're bleeding.”

Gah!

I kick the sand and run the fingers of both hands through my hair to shake out the pink-tipped blond strands. I'm going to kill that cocksucker before we graduate if he doesn't start opening up to me, I swear to fuck.

“I hear you terrified some young children at the aquarium?” I ask Callum, trying to force a smile as I saunter up to the table next to him and Hael. The latter is already shirtless, basking in the sun and grinning like a man who's just escaped the noose. I mean, Brittany as a baby mama would've been rough, I'll grant him that. He deserves to smile, but only a little seeing as the bitch just broke her Havoc price.

In all the history of my boys and Prescott High, only once has any student ever broken their oath; nobody has ever made that mistake again.

I'm terrified for pretty, little Brittany Burr.

“I made them piss themselves,” Callum says with a smile, his blond hair open to the sky, reflecting back the rays of the sun like it's crafted of gold. “Not on purpose, obviously. I was trying to make our girls laugh.” He sips from a frosty Pepsi can that must've come from the vending machines near the restroom. When he offers it up to me, I take it.

“You managed that,” Hael says with a snarky laugh, closing his eyes against the sun. “But you're goddamn terrifying. Can you imagine what Eric must've thought when he saw you crouching on top of his car?”

Cal chuckles and glances out toward the ocean, where Aaron is shepherding three little girls around like he was born to do it. My heart stutters, and I feel some of that wild tension in me flee my body. This is my honeymoon; it's Thanksgiving break.

Neil Pence is dead.

He's dead.

The Thing is finally dead.

And yet … how come, when I look at my sister running across the sand in bare feet and a smile, I feel no peace? This isn't over, but I can't put my finger on exactly why I feel that way.

“I guess I'm scarier than I think I am?” Cal says, like he's posing a question. The way he holds his face, blue eyes lifted up toward the sky in thought, makes him sound so innocent. It's a sight to behold, like looking at a reflection of who Callum Park might've been if he hadn't had his dreams beaten out of him.

Oscar makes a low sound of annoyance and we all turn to look at him.

“We might have to adjust our plans slightly,” he says, looking at his tablet. “Our friends have arrived almost two hours early.”

“Friends?” I echo, glancing down the beach at the dune buggy rental place. It's nearly dead today; I don't hear any ATVs or buggies at all. “What friends?”

“Other half of your wedding present,” Hael says, sitting up suddenly and snapping his fingers at me. He bites his lip, honeyed eyes flicking in the direction of the girls. “We'll have to bail early though, or we'll miss our chance.”

“Our chance?” I ask, and Vic grunts.

“Alright, Bernie, go tell Aaron we're leaving.” Victor checks his phone briefly and then looks up at me. “He knows to keep the girls occupied until we’re ready for him to join us at the house.”

“What house?” I ask, trying to blink through my confusion. I love the idea of the guys getting me gifts, but last time they did this, I received my stepfather in a coffin in a very deep hole. A chance to emotionally prepare would be nice. Please just … don't let it be my mother that they've got in their wicked claws. Not yet.

“The Vincents’,” Victor tells me, flashing that signature wicked smile of his. He leans down to kiss me on the cheek, and goose bumps chase across my skin.

Shit.

Did not expect that.

The gentle kiss, I mean.

I totally expected the intrigue.

We're called Havoc for a reason, right?

#

The girls are all too short to legally ride in the dune buggies—not that legality is like, a big concern for us—but Aaron and I both figure that the height requirement is there for a reason. A bit of fun in the sand dunes isn't worth any potential risk to them. Hell, even a broken leg would require a hospital visit which could lead to questions of custody which could lead to Aaron losing his sister and cousin.

“I hate having the last birthday of us all,” he grumbles, sweeping his hair back from his face as he watches the girls make a sandcastle. Technically, he doesn't have the last birthday in Havoc: I do. But guess what? Getting married in Oregon makes you a legally emancipated motherfucking minor.

As is usually the case with Havoc, my marriage to Victor has served two purposes.

These boys do nothing without vicious intent.

“Don't stress,” I say, pausing beside him as Heather glares at me from her spot in the sand. The deal was that we would hang out together on the beach for an hour or two before we rented the dune buggies. But the Vincents have arrived early, and this plan that the boys have come up with relies on us being on the dunes at the same time as them. “We'll get you there.”

“I know,” Aaron says, exhaling and glancing my way with gold-green eyes. Does he know I feel like a charlatan saying that? The guys have fought for years to keep Aaron, Kara, and Ashley together. I'm just now joining in the fight, a fight that maybe I should've been in all along.

They may not have wanted me in Havoc, but I also wasn't strong back then. I'm not sure I could've handled any of this. Maybe the blame isn't so one-sided here, huh?

“We need to go,” Oscar says, annoying the fuck out of me. He's lucky I don't have any weapons on me right now. “If we're late, there's no point in this.”

Gritting my teeth, I give Aaron's arm one, last squeeze, hating myself for not having spoken to him about Oscar yet. It feels like cheating, and I don't like that. I mean, I know it's not, and we've just been busy as shit lately, but that doesn't make me feel any less bad about it.

“Period dick,” I snap at Oscar as I walk by him, flipping my hair into his face. Either I just can't hear his reaction over the waves or else he knows better than to talk back to me after just being scolded by Victor.

“Your ass, those shorts, holy motherfucker,” Hael murmurs, and when I glance back at him, I see him sucking on his lower lip. I give him a coy smile, ignoring Vic’s dark glare, and turn back around, making sure to toss and ruffle my hair with my fingers. My cheeks are most definitely hanging out of these shorts; my top is most definitely riding up to expose just a hint of my belly button. I learned a long time ago that monsters will hunt you and eat you, whether you wear trash bags or ho heels.

Besides, it’s my body. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with it. Victor … maybe needs to get the memo.