Page 87 of The Vipers and Their Venom

“Your girlfriend’s got my fucking charger,” she says.

I don’t give a shit about a charger and right now don’t have the energy to deal with her assertation that Vani is my girlfriend. “She just left on her bike. Do you know where she’s going?”

Angelica folds her arms across her chest. “Back to Daddy and the club, I expect.”

I’m shocked at her answer. “What? Why?”

“Because she just found out what happened to Reagan Olsen.”

My blood runs cold.Fuck.

Fuck-fuck-fuck.

I knew we should have talked to her the moment we found out she had Reagan’s file. But Nathaniele’s threat to have anyone expelled who even mentioned her name hung over us all, plus we hadn’t wanted to scare Vani away. If we talked to her, we’d have looked as guilty as hell. We lied by omission, and we did it so we could screw her.

Maybe that was the real truth of it.

We just hadn’t wanted her to know. For our own selfish ends.

I throw a question back at Angelica. “Did you tell Vani how close you guys used to be with Reagan before she died?”

Angelica shakes her head. “No, I didn’t get the chance. The moment I mentioned your name, she ran out of here.”

I clench my jaw, and for the first time in my life, I have to stop myself hurting a girl. “What the fuck did you tell her?”

“Only what everyone knows is the truth, Lex.” She gives me a vicious glare and turns on her heel.

I stare at the space where she was, my heart tumbling over itself in a rapid, scared rhythm.

45

VANI

Iblink open my eyes.

Stars pinprick the dark sky overhead, and the only light is from the thin sliver of moon. A frog croaks somewhere nearby, and an owl in the trees replies with a screech.

Where the hell am I? For a few painful breaths, I simply stay still, confusion and fogginess making it hard to think, but then the memories flood back in. I fell off my bike.

Fuck.

My bike’s engine has shut off because I can’t hear it, and so have the headlight because it is pitch black. I’m lying in the middle of the road, the asphalt rough beneath me, and all around me is night.

Everything hurts, but the left side of my body is the worst. It took the brunt when I came off the bike, and I wasn’t wearing any protective leathers. I should be grateful I haven’t cracked my skull open. Have I broken anything? Carefully, I wiggle my fingers and toes. Everything still seems to be working, though I don’t dare sit up. What if I’ve got a spinal injury and movement paralyses me?

A shadow looms over me, deepening the darkness, and I flinch.

My stomach drops and terror grips my throat. I’m not alone out here in the dense darkness and silence.

Someone is standing over me.

I draw in a breath of shock. Though it’s hard to see, in the pale moonlight the figure is distinctly male, with their height and the breadth of their shoulders. My fear starts to recede as I try to be logical about this. They must have been driving down the road and spotted me and pulled over to help, though I can’t see any headlights of a car, or even see one parked nearby.

“Help,” I manage to say, though my voice is weak. “Please, help me.”

The person just stands there, staring at me. I can’t make out their face, but it isn’t Zane. I can sense as much. This person’s presence is entirely different. The comfort recedes, and a frisson of fresh fear runs through me.

“Please,” I say again.

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