Page 67 of The Venom We Bleed

"Fucking hell." Gio's bark makes me jump, but almost just as quickly as it sounds, soft fabric slides over my shoulders. My head snaps back. Gio stands over me, his face half-hidden inshadow, though not enough to hide the expression of confusion and surprise that deepens the crease between his brows.

"Baby?" The feminine voice comes from the front door and Gio turns, blocking me with his body.

"Go back to your apartment," he barks. "Don't fucking come here."

"But—"

"What the fuck did I say?" His tone is deep, angry. "Get lost!"

She gasps at the insult. Whatever she says next is lost on me, but she's gone a moment later and that's all that matters. Then Gio is bending down next to me, crouching on his toes as those soil-rich brown eyes of his bore into me. "You're okay," he says, his voice far lighter and kinder than it had been to the other woman. "You're going to be okay, Jules."

I blink back at him. Am I? I want to ask if he means that, because I don't feel okay. I feel like I did the night my dad was arrested—out of control and dead inside. It's as if I packed up all of my emotions into a box and shipped them somewhere far away.

Gio reaches into his pants—jeans, was he sleeping in his jeans?I wonder dimly—and pulls out a cell phone. I watch him punch at the keys before lifting the cell to his ear. I don't have to ask to know who he's calling. Who else would it be but the very men I promised myself I'd never trust?

Gripping the edges of the blanket that Gio had given me, I pull it closer, wrapping my body with it, hiding the truth of what happened. Of what I did.

I killed a man, and I liked it.

A bubble of hysterical laughter rockets up my throat. I shove my knuckles between my teeth and bite down to repress the sound, but a muffled noise makes it out. Looking back at Gio, I realize that his gaze is still locked on me, though seeing himis difficult through the curtain of water in my vision.What the fuck?—

"It's okay," Gio murmurs, voice soft as he pulls me against his chest, against his warmth. "You can cry, Jules."

Cry? I shake my head. No. I don't need to cry. What I need is a mental hospital.

My thoughts splinter as I inhale, gasping and choking. Somehow, though, with Gio so close, the smell of his soothing cologne, spicy and rich, overwhelms me and erases the filthy odor of sweat and blood and a tainted memory that needs to remain buried.

28

JULIET

I'm cold, which is ironic since I'm pretty sure the body heat the three hulking men in my already tiny studio are throwing off should be enough to make this place feel like a sauna. Instead, I'm bundled up, kind of wishing I still had the expensive parka my mom had gotten me for Christmas three years ago. I'd only ever used it once, but it'd been big and fluffy, heavy enough to survive the frost of Aspen when we’d gone skiing for Christmas. I'm sure it'd warm me now.

The Scorpion Kings have stationed themselves throughout my apartment. Gio is out on the balcony, taking a look at the damage a man's body flying into the already piece of shit railing has caused. Lex is against the wall, arms crossed, expression indecipherable, but eyes eerily focused on me where I'm sitting on my futon that’s now been shifted into its upright position.

"Okay, let’s run through it again.” Nolan’s commanding presence seems to evoke a desire in me to throw something at his head. I glare at him but keep still on the futon as I hold the edges of the blanket together to hide my near-nakedness. Maybe if I throw something at him and see his reaction, it’ll thaw some of the numbness I'm currently feeling.

"What's there to run through?" I ask. To my utter shock, my voice is raspy and raw. I cough and blink, frowning when the tightness in my throat doesn’t ease. I shake my head and refocus on the man hovering above me. “I told you everything that happened exactly as it happened."

"That man came in, attacked you, and you stabbed him," Nolan says, repeating my earlier words. "He tries to escape and he falls over the balcony. I get that right?"

Well, I pushed him and therefore, killed him, but other than that, he’s got everything right. I bob my head. Then a thought occurs to me. "Should I call the police?" Would they even give a fuck that the town outcast was nearly raped and murdered in her own apartment?

"No.” I’m so caught up in my own thoughts that at first I think the answer is referring to my internal question before I recall that it’s actually in response to the idea of calling the police.

Gio steps back into the apartment and closes the sliding glass doors before engaging the lock. For all of the good it did the first time. "No police—and most definitely not the police in Silverwood."

Nolan agrees with a nod. "He's right. All of Silverwood was affected by the embezzlement. The police department wouldn't bother to do much more than file a report—and that was before you killed a man. If they find out, they won't waste the chance to get rid of you just as anyone else would."

At least, they’re honest. Their healthy dose of reality reminds me of the reason behind my current circumstances. "Do you think he was out for revenge?" I ask, glancing to the balcony.

"Probably," Gio says.

"Am I going to jail?" I ask the question in a quiet monotone, no inflection to reveal how I’m feeling about the possibility.

All three men exchange looks as the room goes silent. When it stretches out, I glance up at them curiously. Each of their expressions are hard masks, and I sit there watching them talk in silent ticks and chin jerks, a language that’s all their own. It’s one I can’t understand.

Turning away, I glance at the faded glowing digits on the microwave in my kitchen. 2:59 a.m. The witching hour. The hour when bad things happen. When nightmares come to life.

---