Page 15 of The Vipers and Their Vendetta

I stare at him, and something about that cocky smirk flicks my self-control switch to off. Lex always says it takes so much effort for me to maintain my charming persona that when it wears thin, it just snaps. Like a thread, it can’t hold and when that happens, all my planning, all my carefully calibrated charisma goes to waste as I lose control.

“Motherfucker.”

I lose it. With a roar, I run at them both, my worry about getting Vani out of here gone for now as my rage takes over. I barrel Roman out of the way with my shoulder and take Malachi to the ground. I smack Malachi’s hand against the floor until he drops the knife. He rolls, trying to reach for it, but I grab his neck and haul him back to me. Malachi might not be as big as I am, but what he lacks in brute strength he more than makes up for in speed and cunning.

A sharp elbow to my ribs winds me, and we both roll. He grabs my hair and pulls, sharp pain like a thousand pins stabbing into my scalp. I should have shaved most of it off like Zane. I bring my knee up sharply, connecting with his balls, and he lets out a wheezy yelp?—

Ice cold water drenches me, freezing the air in my lungs.What the hell?

“Stop it right now!”

We’ve stopped trading blows as we gasp in shock at the icy cold. Standing above us, staring down like a mother irate with two naughty toddlers, is Vani.

“Saint, get up,” she says, low and angry. “I want to leave.”

She has just doused both me and Malachi with a whole ice bucket of cold water and half-melted ice chips. Some of the small chips twinkle in Malachi’s hair like mini diamonds.

“I like her,” Roman says dryly. “You can take her, Saint. We’re done with her now.”

“They should pay for what they’ve done to you,” I say to Vani as I struggle to get up. My feet slip in the icy water.

“Nothing. That’s what they did to me, Saint.Nothing.They took my hair, and then he dressed my wound. I want to leave,now.”

Her tone is sharp and no nonsense. The way she’s looking at me is different. It’s as if something in her eyes died.

They did do something to her in this room, but she’s not ready to say what, and the longer we stay here, the more danger it puts her in. I nod and take her hand. I think she might yank it back again, but she doesn’t.

Still, these bastards can’t think they can get away with this. As we walk by them, I snarl and grab a heavy glass bottle. The anger within me roars to life, friendly and comforting in its darkness. I aim the bottle at Roman’s head. He’s still wearing that stupid mask, and he raises his arm to defend himself. The bottle misses his skull but breaks against his forearm. Bright red appears against the white of his skin, and then drips on the floor.

“Cleanthat up,motherfucker,” I snarl with satisfaction.

“Please, Saint. I need to leave.” Vani tugs at my arm.

The glint of metal below my feet has me picking up the knife.

I’m aware that I’m being a fucking idiot, but I can’t seem to help myself. I hate that they’ve seen Vani in only her underwear, and that they’ve touched her bare skin. It makes me see red.

“Now who is in charge, huh?” I demand, waving it as I advance on Malachi, who has only just stood upright.

Roman pulls his mask off, and Malachi has already taken his off. They’re both so muchless thanwithout them, I think. At least now they look halfway fucking normal.

“Fuck you all,” Vani yells. “I’m leaving. You can stay here and fight,assholes.”

She storms for the door and leaves me standing here without her.

“Want to stay and party with us?” Roman says through gritted teeth, holding his arm against his body. “We can make it fun.”

“Yeah, we didn’t do anything to her, but it doesn’t mean we won’t to you. You’d look so pretty on your knees for us, Saint,” Malachi says with a laugh.

“I’m the one holding the knife, motherfucker,” I point out. I back toward the door. I’d have liked to have stayed and rearranged their faces, but Venom, goddamn her, has once again run from me and is out there in the dark.

That girl needs to be taught so many lessons.

Malachi shakes his head and turns to the shelving that holds all the bowls and glass jars. One shelf close to waist height holds a large metal cylinder container, and he dips his hand inside. I hold back a laugh, expecting him to spin around and blow fucking magical dust in my face or something.

“Yeah, but I’m the one with a gun in my hand,” Malachi says casually, turning back to me.

My eyes flick down to the weapon. Fuck.

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