Page 1 of The Vipers' Vow

1

VANI

I’m going to fall.

The certainty sinks into me with utter terror. I’m standing on the edge of the highest tower at Verona Falls University, and the drop behind me is vast and fathomless. I can’t turn to look. I’m too terrified to do anything but try not to fall as Zane’s desperate gaze holds mine.

My arms pinwheel as I try to keep my balance. Behind me, the storm seems to gain momentum with every passing second. The clouds gathering, the wind whipping my hair from my face. Beneath the wind, sirens blare, and I’m only vaguely aware of a commotion happening far below.

Zane lunges for me, and I have no choice but to reach back.

If I don’t, I’ll die.

Suddenly, the huge, silent beast of a man standing in front of me, who I’d been so frightened of, morphs into my savior.

Our fingers touch, and I gulp a sob. His grip tightens, and he pulls me to him. His big arms bracket me in a prison of safety as my breath rushes in and out, fast and harsh.

I’d almost relived my sister’s fate, crashing to the ground far below, my body broken and shattered, no way of coming back from it. I can’t believe I came so close. What the hell had I been thinking, coming up here? But I hadn’t been thinking, not really. I’d been heartbroken that once again, these three men did what they could to try to destroy me. I thought I’d be satisfied with my revenge on them, ruining the things they loved like I did—Lex’s precious car, Saint’s paintings, Zane’s hand-carved table—but somehow, they still managed to hurt me more.

Yet here is one of them. A life raft in the storm raging around us.

Zane hauls me against him, and I cling to him.

He saved me.

It hits me hard. This silent, huge man just saved my damn life.

All the emotion of what I’ve gone through since arriving at Verona Falls barrels up and spills from me in one go. I suck in panicked gasps, and my shoulders hitch with my sobs. I can’t seem to get enough air, but instead of creating space around us, I only hold Zane tighter. He’s the one solid thing in my life right now, and I feel like if I let go, I might crumble. My tears wet his shirt, and I inhale the scent of him like it’s oxygen.

For a moment, I think it’s only me shaking, but then I realize he is too. His entire body trembles with emotion as he holds me.

I’m weak with relief, and I’m sure my legs aren’t strong enough to hold me up. Only Zane’s powerful embrace surrounding me keeps me on my feet.

One of the hideous fliers with my photocopied face and the words ‘Daddy’s Little Whore’ printed across it is crushed in his hand. I stiffen in his arms. I do this every time. I let them lull me into a false sense of security and make me feel things for them, only for them to turn around and hurt me all over again.

Theyare the reason I am here. I’m clinging to the man who would destroy me as if he’s my hero, but he’s not, not really. I wouldn’t have been up on the tower if it weren’t for Zane and his friends. This is all still his fault. I might be clinging to him as though he’s my savior, but he’s my enemy.

They all are.

The siren continues to wail, the rise and fall like a newborn baby’s cry. Another crack of thunder rolls overhead, and instinctively, we both duck. This isn’t the safest place to be right now. A strike of lightning could kill us both.

Zane seems to realize this as well, and he gently unpeels me from his chest and holds me at arm’s length so he can see my face. There’s nothing but concern and, dare I even think it, love in his green eyes. He cups my cheek and brushes away my tears with his thumb. His gentleness only makes me cry harder, and I twist my face to nuzzle into the heat of his hand.

He pulls me back in and kisses my forehead and hugs me again. Then he presses our foreheads together and lightly brushes his nose against the tip of mine.

His eyes squeeze shut, and when he opens them again, a single tear pools at the corner of his eye and trickles down the hard planes of his face. He doesn’t even seem to notice or care that he’s crying. I’ve never seen this man show such depth of emotion. Truly, I didn’t think he was capable of this kind of deep sadness. Anger, yes. Rage, absolutely. But this quiet, intense sadness I see on his face? No. Even after he’d found out the surgeons could do nothing more to restore his voice, I hadn’t seen him cry.

I’m so confused and conflicted about these men. Zane is the one who makes me think I must be wrong. He must feel something true. These aren’t the actions of a man who hates me.

Neither of us has spoken a word, but we haven’t needed to. Just how he’s held me, looked at me, touched me, has said more than words ever could. Perhaps, because he can’t speak, he finds other ways of showing emotion. He’s doing that right now with his gaze, his touch, his emotions writ large and unashamed.

The rain starts, heavy, cold droplets tapping me on the head and shoulders. It doesn’t take long for us to both be soaked.

Behind Zane, the door onto the roof crashes open. The wind catches it so it slams against the wall behind, the vibrations reverberating through the roof.

Saint stands in the doorway, the wind rippling his shirt and hair. For a moment, I think he has some kind of red pattern on the white material, but then I realize it’s blood. His shirt isn’t the only thing that’s bloodied—so is his split lip. What the hell happened to him?

Despite myself, I don’t like seeing Saint hurt. I also don’t like seeing him so ruffled when he’s normally put together and in control of himself. It doesn’t bode well.

---