Page 109 of Craving Venom

Every step of it, every calculation, every moment we spent carving our way into the guts of this place was perfectly executed.

If only it weren’t for one small mistake.

If only it weren’t for the one thing I didn’t account for.

I step into my cell, and it is doing nothing to shake the lingering static in my veins. So, I check my computer and just like that everything else disappears.

Yeah, I did, but I came with Trevor’s name on my lips. He’s more of a gentleman than you can ever be.

Liar.

I know she didn’t come with anybody else on her mind but me. She’s testing me, and she’s going to pay for it.

I’m beginning to think you want to be punished. I was almost considering going easy on you, but remember, good girl you brought this upon yourself.

Yeah, sure. Just swing on by, why don’t you?

I let my head tip back against the chair. She thinks she can push me, poke the beast, throw out reckless little taunts without consequences just because I’m in prison.

I glance around, letting my gaze trail over the concrete walls, the metal bars. It’s meant to be a cage, meant to contain me.

But Faith should know better.

This place doesn’t make me weak. It doesn’t take my power.

It just makes me patient.

And when I do get my hands on her, she’ll wish she never fucking taunted me.

Though, I love that about her. I love the way she fights me because it makes it so much sweeter when I win. I type one last message and hit send.

I push off the chair, stretching my shoulders as I walk toward the sink. The pipes groan in protest as I turn the tap, the kind ofdelayed reaction that signals neglect, but it is an opportunity, in the right hands.

My hands.

The faucet sputters before water finally dribbles out, and I take a moment to splash the cool droplets over my face, feeling them trail down my jaw, soaking into my shirt. Then, carefully, I crouch, and slip my fingers beneath the base of the sink.

The metal panel is rusted at the edges, a flaw no one bothered to fix. A flaw I noticed the moment they threw me in here.

A quick twist of my wrist is all it takes for the panel to pop free, revealing a small bag ofbarbiturates, perfectly stashed beneath the sink, hidden from prying eyes.

I pluck it out, rolling the pills between my fingers, staring down at them with a detached kind of focus. They’re strong enough to knock out a man twice my size. Enough to kill me if I miscalculate. But I don’t need to die.

I just need to collapse. I need them to panic, to rush me out of here and straight into the hands of someone who doesn’t know what I am. Because the second they roll me into that hospital, I’m fucking gone.

I brace myself as I unscrew the cap. I toss the pills back, dry-swallowing them all at once.

I rip my bedsheet, stuffing torn strips of fabric between my gums and inner lips. When my body starts shutting down, the guards will think I’m foaming at the mouth. They’ll think I’m dying, and they’ll act accordingly.

The dizziness hits fast, a sudden blow to the head that nearly knocks me off balance, and that’s good. I wait another ten seconds, letting the haze settle in, before slamming my skull into the porcelain sink. Pain explodes through my head, but I don’t stop. I do it again, harder this time, and again, until the pounding in my skull matches the chaos I need them to see.

The sharp crack of bone against ceramic rings through the cell, and blood spurts, trailing down my forehead as it drips into my mouth. The metallic tang coats my tongue, mixing with the pills dissolving in my gut.

My vision wavers. My limbs tremble. My fingers twitch at my sides like my body is trying to fight the poison.

Almost there.

I stumble back, dragging my feet against the floor. My breath turns shallow, my chest tightens, and my muscles lock up like my body knows what’s coming.

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