Page 61 of Crowned In Venom

The air is too thick, too heavy—clogged with the echoes of screams that still vibrate in my bones.

I do not remember how hard I swung the whip.

But I remember the sound.

The sharp crack of leather against flesh.

The way the man’s body jerked, spasmed.

The way I did not stop.

The way Varkos watched me.

The way he smiled.

My stomach twists, a nauseating churn of sickness and something worse.

I need to get out of here.

I do not remember how I reach my chamber.

But suddenly, I am inside, and the door is locked behind me.

My breaths come in short, frantic bursts, my hands shaking as I press them against the wooden frame.

I will myself to be still.

To be calm.

But my body betrays me.

The first heave comes fast, a brutal twist of my stomach that sends me to my knees.

I barely make it to the basin in the corner before I empty what little is left inside me.

Pain burns through my throat, my ribs aching as I gasp, cough, spit.

But it does not stop.

Because it is not just my body that is rejecting what I have done.

It is something deeper.

Something rotting inside me.

I collapse back onto the cold stone floor, pressing my forehead against it, letting its chill seep into me.

I am shaking.

Not from fear.

Not from weakness.

But from something worse.

From the realization that he was right.

Varkos’s words coil inside my skull, whispering, taunting.

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