Page 142 of Beautiful Venom

We found him in a cellar with a teacher, who was spreading Preston’s naked legs and on the verge of sexually assaulting him.

Jude got a candelabra and hit him on the head over and over again while I immobilized him.

Preston’s face was bruised, his bony body covered in semen, and he had a dead look in his eyes.

Until Jude gave him a knife and told him to finish him.

He only smiled when that sleazy teacher’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he spit out his last disgusting breath.

That was our first murder. At ten years old.

Naturally, our parents covered up the incident as a freak accident. But they didn’t pull us out of the school.

In fact, Jude and I were punished for the mess. Preston was sent to a therapist, who, instead of helping him, diagnosed him with early signs of antisocial personality disorder.

Preston never talks about it, but Jude and I suspect that wasn’t the first time something like that happened to him.

Until he was a teenager, people said he looked so beautiful with girly features, especially when he had his hair long. That, plus the fact that he’s a provocateur who loves to insult everyone attracted the wrong crowd in a boys-only school full of sick freaks.

Which is why Jude and I have always been wary about any creepy fucks coming near him. It’s also why Jude pummels anyone who dares to slam into Preston during games.

Jude is a protective mama bear of sorts, even though Preston became fully capable of defending himself a long time ago.

However, the scene from now is concerning. He just lay down and took the beating, which he never does. I’m wondering if he was triggered in some way.

“You think it’s one of those motherfuckers?” Jude asks in a low voice as we balance Preston between us and walk through the dense forest.

“No. They wouldn’t dare touch him as he is now.”

“He went crazy, Kane.” There’s an edge to his words. “He rarely ever lets himself slip that far now that he’s had himself under control for so long. What if they’re targeting him again?”

“Simple. We’ll maim every last one of them and let him bathe in their blood.”

“Every last one of them.” Jude smirks. “We might need a list. Your favorite.”

I smile.

At least there’s something to keep me distracted from the chaos in my mind.

Even temporarily.

* * *

“You haven’t answered my texts.”

That’s the first thing I hear the next morning, coming from a tiny woman with an overflowing temper.

Dahlia blocks the arena’s entrance with a hand on her hip. Her brown hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, her eyes are bloodshot, and she has dark circles that could be spotted from a mile away.

So much for keeping a distance.

“That should’ve been your clue,” I say in a cold tone and start to bypass her.

She opens her arms wide, halting me in place. “All I wanted was a confirmation of whether or not you’re okay.”

“Since when is that any of your business? You’re nothing to me, Dahlia.”

“Liar.” She lifts her chin. “You care about me.”

---