Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #4) Read Online C.M. Stunich

Categories Genre: New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Havoc Boys Series by C.M. Stunich
Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 140036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 700(@200wpm)___ 560(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #4)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

C.M. Stunich

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B08LRDVV4C
Book Information:

There’s one mistake you don’t make at Prescott High, not unless you want me to ruin you. Do not touch my beautifully broken Havoc Boys. Harbin, Fadler, Channing-Blackbird, Montauk, and Park.
Death stalks the halls of Prescott High. Once upon a time, my best friend betrayed me. For over a year, I let that two-faced bitch go. But not anymore.
This time, she’s stirred up the devil in me. We’re finishing up my list; we’re setting my sights higher; we’re taking control of this city. The VGTF, the detective, the pretty young cop.
It doesn’t matter. Because we are Havoc, and I no longer have limits. My boys have corrupted me, and we’re more than happy to bathe in the blood of our enemies.

ANARCHY AT PRESCOTT HIGH is a 120,000 word mature high school/new adult romance with enemies-to-lovers/love-hate themes. It has brief flashbacks of past bullying incidents as well as foul language and sexual scenes; any sex featured is consensual. This is a reverse harem novel, meaning the main character has more than one love interest. This is book one of five in the series.
Books in Series:

The Havoc Boys Series by C.M. Stunich

Books by Author:

C.M. Stunich



“Alright, darling, keep your head,” Victor tells me in a voice crafted of confidence and desire, possession and pain. He knows me so well, everything about me, really. He knows the darkest recesses of my heart, but he also knows that deep down, on the very inside, there is something about me that still wants to believe.

Believe the world is good.

Believe that love prevails.

Believe that there is justice.

I’m standing in the Prescott High School gymnasium, surrounded by people, watched by cops … and yet, all I can think about is how I’m going to flay Kali Rose-Kennedy and lay her to waste. I am done with her shit. And I am done with shit from people like Neil, and Eric, and Coraleigh.

Done. Done. Done.

“They’re all watching you,” Callum says, stepping up close, like a dark avenger in his black suit and crossbones cufflinks, with his imperfectly beautiful voice. “There are five police officers in here, Bernie.”

I’m standing there in that stupid pink dress—why did I pick this? It isn’t me at all, is it? No, it’s what Pen would’ve worn. But I … I am not my sister. And I never will be. As soon as I get my ass out of here, I’m dying the tips of my hair as red as the red, red motherfucking rose.

As red as blood.

As red as the blood I’m about to carve out of Kali.

She stares at me from across the room, and I swear to god, I can’t see anything else. If she hurt Aaron, God nor the devil will be able to save her. I wet my lips with my tongue as she turns away from me, threading her way through the crowd toward Sara Young.

Why on earth she would go back to a police officer when she’s already been labeled a snitch is beyond me. Sometimes people do stupid things, I guess. Sometimes people do really stupid things.

Fortunately for Kali, this will be the very last stupid thing she ever does.

“The fuck is she going?” Hael grumbles, swiping a hand over his face. My body shivers at his nearness, but I just stroke my lioness down and let her know that it’s time to hunt, not time to mate. Not yet. Maybe later, in Kali’s blood.

Shit, I’ve already been labelled the school bully for throwing Kali’s face into a locker, so I might as well tell the truth, right? If I’ve got the title, then I’ll earn it. Like I said, there are two sides to every story, but usually, only one of them is true.

“Cops, got it,” I say belatedly to Callum. Oscar’s eyes track my movements as I start off in Sara’s direction. With all his weird issues about touching people—you know, unless they’re on their period or tied up in his bedroom—I don’t expect him to touch me.

“Whatever it is that you plan on doing, run it by us first.” He puts his long, tattooed fingers on my arm, searing my skin with the type of mark you can never scrub clean, one that’s made up of desire and unfulfilled promises.

I just stare into his gray eyes for a moment before giving a brief nod.

My feet are moving across the floor before I even realize it, the boys trailing just behind. I continue to feel Oscar’s stare on my back, and I think about the way he put his hand on my head and told me he was sorry. Too little, too late, maybe, but I don’t care.

He’s mine, and we both know it.

He can be fucked-up; he can run away after sex; shit, he can trade barbs with me all day long.

That doesn’t take away from our belonging to one another. Signed and sealed, written in blood. Cannot be undone.

“Bernadette,” Officer Young says, her doe-brown eyes flicking past me to land on the boys. Like a murder of crows with sharp-sharp beaks, they scatter, dispersing into the crowd as if her presence has any effect on them at all. In reality, I know Oscar would put his revolver to Sara’s temple, pull the trigger, and not lose any sleep over it.

It’s up to me to act like a moral compass in this situation. Not that the boys have a terrible one, because they don’t. After all they’ve been through, despite the darkness in which they thrive, they do good for this city. Springfield could only be so damn lucky to have us run the underground.

Somebody has to do it, right? Why not a bunch of somebodies whose hearts actually beat? Who care for other souls beyond their own? Who actually have souls, I should say. We won’t sex traffic little girls; we won’t hurt bystanders; and I’ll be damned if we kill cops whose worst sin is that their hands are a little too clean.

Kali turns her toxic gaze to mine, and I swear on the devil’s perky tits that I feel something slash through me, like the fangs of an arachnid. Poison, poison, poison. I’ll admit: I’m a little sexist. After everything men have done or tried to do to me, I know the depths of their evil. Women, overall, are not nearly as bad. But when they are, they’re fucking venomous.

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