Page 5 of The Venom We Bleed

I mean she was fucking your boyfriend at your own birthday party,a snide inner voice reminds me. My hands curl inward and the metal teeth of my keys dig into my palm.

“What?” Avery blinks up at me, her fake lashes fluttering rapidly—a sure sign of her anxiety. “You don’t think it was real, do you?” She forces a scoff. “Jules, I’d never?—”

“Lie to me?” I cut her off before raising my eyes to Bran’s over her shoulder. He, at the very least, doesn’t look as confident about getting out of this mess they’ve made. His brows are creased and the square cut of his jaw jumps nervously as he clenches and unclenches his teeth.

“Juliet…” He starts, but I don’t let him finish as I step out of Avery’s reach and circle them.

“Fuck off, Avery.” I toss the words over my shoulder as I march to the front of the house. “You can have Bran for all I care—it’s not like you actually came anyway. God knows I never did.”

“Juliet!” Bran’s shocked tone, full of outrage and a hint of irritation slides over my skin like sandpaper, but I don’t turn around. Instead, the second I hit the door, I take off running.

Thanking God I ditched the heels, I sprint across the wide-open lawn down to the edge of the driveway where I parked my car earlier in the night. My feet slap the wet grass underfoot right before tiny rocks from the paved driveway dig into my soles. I can hardly feel them, though, as I unlock the BMW and quickly jump inside.

I don’t bother with a seatbelt as my head screams at me to just get out! The engine purrs to life and my headlights flash over a Porsche in front of me as I turn and back out, nearlyclipping the SUV behind me as I swivel the wheel at the last second. The car jerks and gears grind together, the wheels spinning as the back ones slip into the grass and dirt. I freeze as my gaze connects with a pair of semi-familiar cloudy gray eyes before swapping to those of the man sitting in the passenger seat.

Fuck me. As if my humiliation wouldn’t be complete withoutthemhere. The fucking gangsters from Silverwood Public. The Scorpion Kings, or at least two of them. My upper lip curls back as I ease up on the gas and then press back down. Traction catches and I manage to get the car back onto the actual pavement.

Ignore them, I tell myself, ripping my attention away from their gazes. No doubt they’re only here to do business—sell their drugs, fuck rich girls who think poor boys have bigger dicks, and generally make a nuisance of themselves with their judgmental looks. It’s not my problem anymore. It’s not my party anymore.

Hell, maybe after tonight, I won’t ever see them again. It’s not like I’ll ever go to another Silverwood Prep party again. In fact, the second I get home, I plan to convince my parents to let me transfer schools. A nice boarding school in the Swiss Alps sounds fucking fantastic right about now.

Just as I hit the main road, I glance up and over the rusted roof of Alexio Medicci’s old SUV. He and the other Scorpion King with him watch me through the windows, but I focus on the open door of Avery’s parents’ lake house. Avery and Bran stand on the porch, staring after me as several others from our school pour out of the house after them, likely having been called by the drama as they watch me speed off into the night.

Fresh tears well up and I swipe them away with the back of my hand. “Stop it,” I order myself through a thick voice as the tears start to fall anyway.

My chest aches, winding tighter and tighter as everything inside threatens to shatter into pieces. Silverwood isn’t far from the lake and black pavement disappears beneath my wheels as I drive back. The interior of the car is silent and I almost forget why—that is, until I remember what I’d done with my phone. That's fine with me. I don’t need any more noise than what is already in my head.

Halfway home, I roll down the window. Hot summer air pours into the car, partially relieving the headache I have pounding against the inside of my skull. My stomach churns with bile and pain.

Forty-five minutes later, I turn into the gated community of my parents’ home, and as I slow to a stop on my street, I look up and spot several police cruisers outside the three-story house I’ve lived in since before I can remember. The BMW idles at a stop sign as I gape at the scene before me.

The door to my house opens and my father is walked out with two officers at his back. His hands are cuffed and just as I’m sure I’ve fallen into some striking dream or alternate reality, a white van with a news logo painted on its side speeds past me and shrieks to a stop at the curb. That, more than anything else, has me taking my foot off the brake and easing forward until I’m close enough to park.

I turn the car off and get out as my mom runs out of the house after my dad and the police. “You’re making a mistake!” she screams at one of the officers.

Several people pile out of the van. Some with cameras already in hand and another with a microphone and a haphazard suit thrown on—like they were rushed here last minute. I reach for my phone only to realize, again, that I’d tossed it in a toilet. Still, even without looking at it, I know that it’s well past midnight.

“What the hell…” I move closer, stumbling up the pristine lawn of my house.

“Oh, thank God!” The second she spots me, my mother whirls around and hurries towards me. To say I’m shocked that she seems happy to see me is an understatement. A moment later though, she bypasses me and runs straight to someone else.

Turning, I spot my father’s best friend and business partner, Morpheus Calloway standing on the sidewalk. He, too, looks like he was just pulled from bed in a soft pair of gray sweat pants and a white t-shirt. His face is lean, almost haggard, and a far cry from the normally immaculate man I’m used to seeing.

Pressured by the chaos around me, I turn and start walking towards them.

“Morpheus!” my mother calls out. “Do something! They’re taking him away. They say he did something terrible!”

My mother practically collapses in Morpheus’ arms. Her loud, open sobbing ramps up. Something cold fills my chest.He did something? What did he do?

Almost as if he can hear me, Morpheus’ face lifts and the look he gives me is one full of sadness and pity. I don’t understand that. They couldn’t have known why I was home already. Why would he be looking at me with pity?

“I’m sorry, Denise,” Morpheus says, his voice low and gravelly. “It’s true.”

“No!” my mother wails. “No, it can’t be!”

I stop in front of them and Morpheus’ gaze lifts away from my mother, settling on me. His attention crawls over me, a visceral thing that feels alive the longer he stares. My insides churn and all of the alcohol I drank earlier in the night threatens to make me heave. Where he looked at her with tightness, he seems almost gentle with me. That gentleness is a lie. “Juliet.”

It’s not the sound of police sirens or the news crew chattering animatedly that breaks that final shred of sanity inside me. It’s not even my mother’s sobbing or the click of the cruiser door as my father is ducked inside the backseat. It’s my name, spoken in that quiet, broken whisper.

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