Page 106 of Beautiful Venom

“She used to text me first.”

“Then loss of interest.”

“It’s not that.” I slammed the locker shut and left.

It was pointless to ask Jude anyway. He’s never had a relationship—doesn’t believe in them—and is a brute with no appreciation for anything soft and delicate. Jude is the type who calls flowers grass and chocolate an unnecessary sugar fest.

Preston could’ve been more help, but he’s also allergic to monogamy and that wasn’t the right time since he was in the zone prior to the Wolves game. That he still fucked up epically despite all his continuous warnings to Jude and the rest of the team to be in their best form.

It’s been two days and I still don’t understand the reason behind her leaving me on Read. Which might or might not have affected my play tonight—or yesterday. It’s probably early in the morning now.

A noise comes from above my head, scattering my thoughts.

Icy water slams into my skin like shards of glass, seeping through flesh and bone. I grind my teeth, my muscles locking against the onslaught, but it keeps coming, each wave colder than the last, trickling down my back, soaking my jeans until I’m nothing but freezing skin and rattling bones.

The floor beneath me is slick, the frosty bite crawling up from the ground, through my feet, and into my spine. The chains rattle above me, and my wrists scream from the strain.

Until I can’t tell where the water ends and the pain begins.

All I can hear is the steadydrip, drip, dripechoing in the dark.

As my hardened body absorbs the shock, thoughts of Dahlia dim to a mere strip of light in the darkness, quickly vanishing under the whips of conditioning.

However, in this moment, I make a promise to myself.

This is the final time I allow Grant’s goons to kidnap and chain me to this place.

Next time, it’ll be him dangling from the ceiling.

* * *

As expected, Grant releases me at five in the morning.

Not in person.

He made it clear last night.

“My son can’t be a failure, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” was all I said before he closed the door.

One of his aides unlocks my chains and leaves me stumbling.

As I ascend the stairs to the main house, I find Samuel waiting with a towel, his erect posture appearing ready to snap.

He’s a wrinkly old bald-headed man who’s been our butler for as long as I’ve been alive. He barely speaks, but he always comes in with a towel and prepares me a warm bath, tea, and a meal after my torture sessions.

He also always has a doctor on standby just in case.

Grant certainly doesn’t want his son and only heir to expire. Not after my uncle is now out of the picture, probably living his best life with that young boyfriend of his.

Sometimes, I think being banished isn’t a bad idea.

But then I remember that I can’t let Grant have it all.

I’m not as magnanimous as my uncle.

I thank Samuel as I step into the bath. Heat flows through me, melting away the chill, but my muscles still contract. So I submerge fully for a couple of minutes before I surface again.

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