Page 12 of The Vipers and Their Venom

I crack my knuckles then the back of my neck. I’ve been stuck in this place too fucking long. I don’t even know why we were sent to this backwater location in the first place. We could have been studying in Paris. The food here is terrible, though I try to make the best of it with what I can forage in the local area.

I do know, though, even if I try to deny it. Our father has a history of wanting to put distance between us and him. Our mother left when we were only babies, and since then we were raised by a revolving door of wannabe stepmothers and nannies. I cringe at the thought of one of the nannies in particular.

Besides, our father decided we’d never survive Paris. We’d end up either dead or locked up. Young and wild, with zero shits given for any consequences of our actions. That we’re identical twins means people remember us, too. Good. I want people to remember us, to know who we are. If we have to rule people by fear, then so be it.

No one disrespects us and gets away with it.

It’s lunchtime, so I head into the cafeteria. I’ll have to make do with a burger and fries since I don’t have time to cook for myself every mealtime, unfortunately. At home, we’d take timeto eat, to sip a glass of red wine while enjoying seared tuna in a salad, but here eating is like a chore—something to be gotten over with as quickly as possible.

I spot one of the other Vipers, Zane, across the room. First, I grab my food, and then I head over to him. As always, I try not to stare at the red, angry scar that runs right across his throat. He doesn’t like us calling attention to it. He hasn’t even told us the full truth about what happened to him—only that he was attacked and it left him with damage to his vocal cords. His body language always changes when we bring it up, though—like he stiffens and curls in on himself, as though he’s trying to hide. We normally tell one another everything, and the fact he’s not shared makes me wonder how fucking awful it can be.

Something about him seems different. His spine is straight, his shoulders back, and there’s a new level of darkness in his eyes.

He taps out something on his phone then pushes it over to me.

There is a new girl. Curves for miles. Dark hair. Some ink too! Fresh meat.

I grin at him. “Is that right? We could do with some. I’m so fucking bored of the girls here.”

Came with a biker gang,he types. One of them caught me looking at her and threatened me.

Now I really am interested. “They threatened you?”

Yeah, to stay away from her. You know I only see that as a challenge. No one tells me what to do.

A challenge for Zane is a challenge for all three of us Vipers.

“Does Saint know yet?”

Zane shakes his head.

I don’t know where my brother has gotten to, but it’s not unlike him to take himself away from the chaos of Verona Falls for a while. The noise and people get to be too much for him,and he has to go and sit alone in the woods until his mind quiets again. If he doesn’t take that time out, he loses his shit, and that’s never pretty for whoever might be around.

I finish my food, grimacing at the taste, just as the bell goes for the start of that afternoon’s classes. I get to my feet, give Zane a light punch in the shoulder as I pass, and head to my class.

I walk into the room and stop short.

Like a rose among the thorns, there’s a girl sitting at one of the desks. I don’t recognize her except from the vague description Zane gave me.

Merde.What the fuck is she doing in our calculus class? She must have made a mistake. It’s understandable, since she’s new here, but that doesn’t mean she should get away with it. Women here know their place, and it needs to stay that way for our world to continue the way it must.

I approach the desk where she’s sitting. “Hey. You’re in the wrong room.”

She tilts her chin toward me. Her brown eyes are big and wide, and she flutters dark lashes, though it’s more out of nerves than her flirting with me.

“I don’t think I am.”

“Are you year three?” If she’s in our year, even better.

She shakes her head. “No, year one.”

“So, you’re definitely in the wrong class.”

She takes out her schedule and shoves it under my nose. “See, here. Calculus, room 3B with Mr. Fryatt.”

“Non,” I say.

She arches her eyebrows. “No?”

---