Page 190 of Craving Venom

“Voss was last seen leaving a charity event just hours before his death. Police are urging anyone with information to come forward. We are pursuing all leads and will ensure justice is served.”

“Yo, Zane.”

I barely turn before a cigarette dangles in my face, held by smoke-stained fingers and accompanied by sunken eyes belonging to Pete or Peter or Peanut, I really don’t care.

“You look like you could use one,” he rasps. “Trade ya a story for a smoke.”

I don’t answer. Just pluck the cigarette from his fingers. The lighter’s in his other hand before I can ask. The first drag hits deep but it works.

“So, what’s the story?”

I exhale slow, watching the smoke curl in the air. “No story.”

Pete scoffs. “Bullshit. You’ve got that look.”

I don’t bother answering as Patrick’s face fades, replaced by footage of the alley where the blood has been washed away, but the dark stains still remain.

“While no official statements have been made, the sheer brutality of the attack has led many to believe this was an act of revenge. Police are investigating possible gang involvement.”

I keep watching. Let them repeat the same lines. Let the news cycle spin its story.

I know the truth.

Derrick Voss didn’t just die.

He was delivered.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

THE BEAUTY

The prison doesn’t look like a prison.

Not from the outside.

The building stretches wide with clean lines and smooth concrete giving it a modern feel, while tall glass windows glint under the morning sun, reflecting the green landscape surrounding the facility. Trees line the perimeter, their branches swaying lazily in the breeze, and for a second, it looks more like a corporate office or some high-end research center. But I know better. Beneath the polished surface, behind those glass walls and security doors, monsters breathe.

And one of them is waiting for me.

I adjust the strap of my bag, but it doesn’t distract me from the tightness in my chest.

“Looks fancy,” Tria remarks beside me, narrowing her eyes as she takes in the view. “Almost… nice.”

“Yeah,” I agree.

Xaden stands on my other side with his arms crossed. He hasn’t said much since we pulled up, but his silence speaksvolumes as the unease rolling off him grows thick enough to choke on.

“Come on,” he clips while his eyes are locked straight ahead. “Let’s get this over with.”

We walk toward the entrance where a guard stands by the doors. He keeps his expression blank as his eyes track our every move, making it clear that no one gets in without permission.

“IDs,” he grunts, holding out his hand.

We all pull them out, handing them over without a word. His gaze lingers on mine a second longer than necessary, and my heart jumps before I can stop it.

Relax, Faith.

I force my breathing to stay even as he scans each one.

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