Page 21 of Craving Venom

“Extremely. Most people in that situation are hysterical. Zane just… stood there. Like he was waiting for something.”

“And what did you do next, Detective?”

“I questioned Zane and his friends. Zane claimed he’d spent the night at Luke’s house with Ella. He said he had planned to take his father’s car as a sort of teenage rebellion, but when he saw the lights were still on in the house, he decided to wait. He said he fell asleep and woke up close to dawn, then went to Luke’s place without the car.”

“And did you believe him?”

Jordan hesitates. “At the time, I didn’t have a reason not to. But something about his story felt… off.”

“What did you do next?”

“I went back to the crime scene to take a closer look.” He pauses, his jaw tightening. “That’s when I noticed the library. One of the shelves was ajar, and it looked like some items were missing. That shelf held the family’s collection of antique weapons.”

“Were you able to locate any of the missing items?”

“Yes. The murder weapon—a rare Colt revolver—was found buried a few yards away, under a bush near the estate.”

The room goes still. Even I stop breathing for a second.

“And did you find anything that contradicted Zane’s story about his whereabouts that night?” Carrier presses.

Jordan nods. “Yes. Based on the timeline, there’s a window of several hours where Zane’s alibi doesn’t hold up. He had the opportunity and the means to commit these murders.”

Carrie steps closer to the jury, her pitch rising just enough to drive her point home. “So, Detective Jordan, in your professional opinion, Zane Valehart’s calm demeanor, his inconsistent alibi, and the discovery of the murder weapon all point to one conclusion: that he murdered his mother and brother in cold blood. Is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jordan says firmly.

Zane’s face flashes on the screen again, and I swear I see the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Another text from Zane lights up my phone, and I groan. This back-and-forth we’ve got going? It’s exhausting. The guy’s a master at saying a whole lot of nothing while somehow keeping me hooked. I toss my phone on the desk like it’s radioactive and rub my temples. He’s officially in my head now, and I hate it.

I glance at the time and decide I need a fucking break. That’s how I find myself in front of Tria’s door. Normally, I’d just barge in, but I’m too tired to deal with her screeching if she and Xaden are in the middle of… whatever it is they do. I actually knock for once.

The door swings open, and there’s Xaden, shirtless and clearly surprised to see me. His dark brows lift, and for a second, neither of us says anything. It’s awkward as hell.

“Uh, hey,” I manage, trying not to make this weirder than it already is. “Tria here?”

He steps aside, gesturing for me to come in. “Yeah. She’s just setting up the movie.”

I walk in, avoiding eye contact with him because, Jesus, why does he have to look like he just stepped out of a fitness ad? Tria’s across the room, balancing a giant bowl of popcorn on one hip and fiddling with the TV remote.

“Faith!” she chirps, setting the bowl on the coffee table. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

“Well, here I am,” I mutter, collapsing onto the couch.

She grins and hands me the popcorn. “We’re doing horror night. Xaden brought his collection.”

Xaden plops down on the other side of the couch. He grabs a box of DVDs from the floor and starts rifling through them. “Pick your poison,” he says, holding up a handful of cases.

I scan the options—slashers, supernatural shit, psychological thrillers. Nothing I haven’t seen before. I point to one at random. “That one.”

“Solid choice,” he says, popping it into the player.

Tria grabs the remote and turns off the lights. “Okay, everyone shut up. It’s starting.”

The movie kicks off with a creepy violin score and some generic exposition about a cursed house. On-screen, a group of teenagers is making every bad decision in the book, wandering into dark basements and ignoring obvious red flags.

“This is so predictable,” I mumble under my breath.

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