Page 3 of The Venom We Bleed

Three years. That’s all we have to get through anyway. Three more years until we’re out of this life, out of Silverwood, and free from our pasts.

I sigh, then look back at the grave. “You can still watch her from afar,” I say quietly. It’s not like his obsession hasn’t come with upgrades for G and me. Being so close and so far from the girl has allowed Lex the room to study methods through which he can follow her. Building his own computers out of scrap metal. Following her social media. Hacking into video feeds ofher in her bedroom, her in class, her … everywhere. Those are skills that when put to other uses, we can take advantage of.

“And if we leave and I want her to come with?” Lex asks.

I grit my teeth. “We arenotkidnapping her,” I tell him. Though I have no compunction about stealing someone else’s freedom, Juliet Donovan is far too high profile and I will not let him put us all at risk just for some pussy.

“What if she wants to come?” Lex presses, sounding almost desperate.

Fuck me. That will never happen. The tightness in my jaw eases as I sink into those words. It’ll never happen, so there’s no need to worry.

I straighten and fix Lex with a look. “If Juliet Donovanwantsto follow you out of Silverwood when we leave,” I tell them, “then we’ll let her.”

That’s all it takes for Lex’s mood to completely shift. All at once, he goes from a morose, angry bastard to peppy and cheerful. He gives me a brilliant smile and returns to his shovel. Gio glances between the two of us with a hesitant expression, but after a few more moments of watching Lex push more dirt into the hole, he seems to realize that the crisis has been averted and goes back to his own.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and stare up into the shadowy tree tops overhead. One thing those dead poets didn’t have to deal with were brothers. Perhaps, though, that’s why they’re dead now. They didn’t have assholes like these two to pull them out of the darkness. I do.

Because of them, I fear nothing anymore. Not even death.

2

JULIET

3 years later…

Iknow that ass. Well, sort of. Usually, I’m on the opposite end of that ass with his dick five inches deep in me. I used to think five inches was pretty good, but now, as I watch him use it on my best friend—scratch that, after this, she’s definitely myex-best friend—I think I’m realizing it’s just … mediocre. I guess catching your boyfriend and ex-bestie fucking on your eighteenth birthday puts things into perspective like that.

Bran’s ass bobs up and down a few more times and beyond him, I hear Avery moan. It pisses me off even more when it comes out sounding completely forced. I know her well enough to know what she sounds like when she’s faking it. She’s fucked nearly every football player on the team in one way or another and then dished the details to me for years, telling me all the ways they either rocked or sucked in bed and how to get through it, a girl has to sometimes just … fake an orgasm so they’ll finish and be done.

The only player left is—or rather was—Brandon.Myboyfriend. Myex-boyfriend.

Bran doesn’t even seem to notice the high-pitched falsetto of her moan. He pumps his hips harder, cursing as he gets closer to climax. Neither one of them even realizes I’m here, standing in the doorway with my eighteenth birthday party still going hard behind me—a partytheythrew.

Lights flash. Music thumps. People pass by in the hall. It’d been a surprise party, and well, I suppose it's now a double whammy of fucking surprises.Literally.

Grayson Rowe stops behind me, the drink in his hand sloshing over the rim of a crystal glass—no red solo cups for the elite soon-to-be senior class of Silverwood Prep. He gapes into the room that I just walked into. Without thinking, I snatch the glass from his grip and tip it back, downing the mixture of rum and something carbonated fast, half-hoping that if I’m drunk enough this whole scene will change.

It doesn’t.

“Holy shit!” Grayson yells. “Is that?—”

“Move.” I cut him off, shoving the now empty crystal glass against his chest as more people stop to see what all the drama is about.

“Oh, my God!” Avery’s shriek fills my ears, but I’m already halfway down the hall.

Anger burns in my gut, churning around and around as bile builds up in my throat. I move quickly into the living room of Avery’s parents’ lake house where half of Silverwood Prep is currently grinding to the music blaring from the surround sound speakers.

“Hey, birthday girl!”

“Happy birthday, Jules!”

“Yo, Juliet!”

Feeling like I’m walking through another one of my nightmares, I ignore those calling out for me and make a beeline straight for the hallway between the kitchen and the four-cargarage. Hardly anyone knows about the bathroom back there and it’ll give me a chance to calm down and think rationally.

I slam into the semi-secret bathroom and quickly shut and lock the door behind me. My heart pounds against my chest, beating against my ribcage to the nearly same rhythmic thumping of the music on the other side of the door. My head pounds in time with the music and my pulse, a consistent maddening beat. My hands curl into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palm until pain spears through me and I have to force them to relax.

My hip hits the bathroom counter which runs the length of the wall, jerking me to a stop. I slap my palms against the rim of the porcelain surface and latch on with my fingers, clamping down on either side of the sink as I look up. Dark winged eyeliner. The perfect contour to both highlight my best features and hide my flaws. I turn my head from side to side and watch the reflection follow the movement, hoping to catch a hint that this is a dream. No such luck. Every movement is exact. Yet still, the woman in the mirror doesn’t feel like me.

---