Page 191 of Craving Venom

“Follow me.”

We step inside, and I notice the polished floors and neutral colors of the lobby, but the walls seem to suffocate us a little more with every step we take.

“Arms out,” another guard barks as we approach the security checkpoint.

I lift my arms as the scanner sweeps over me.

“Clear.”

I grab my stuff and step aside. Tria joins me a second later and her eyes hold mine, silently asking if I’m feeling the same unease.

I don’t confirm or deny.

Tria doesn’t push.

We both know whatever’s twisting inside me isn’t something I’m going to admit. Xaden joins us a moment later, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Twenty-seven other students gather around. Some are wide-eyed, their excitement barely contained. Others look smug, treating this visit as just another flex for their future résumés.

Good for them.

A guard steps forward, his face carved with a stoic hardness that could be mistaken for stone, while his crisp uniform bears a black patch stitched with the prison’s emblem.

“Listen up,” he barks. “You’ll follow my lead from here on out. No straying. No questions unless I say so. Keep your hands visible at all times. You’re entering a secured facility, and we don’t tolerate fuck-ups. Got it?”

A chorus of nods.

“Step forward one at a time for identification,” he continues. “You’ll receive temporary visitor badges. Wear them at all times. Lose one, and you’re done. No exceptions.”

We shuffle into line.

The machine vibrates softly as it scans my fingerprint. A second later, a plastic badge slides from the slot with my name, photo, and Visitor in bold red letters stamped across it.

I clip it to my shirt and move to stand in the far corner.

“Next,” the guard barks.

Tria’s next. Then Xaden. One by one, the others follow.

“Shoes off,” the guard snaps once the last student steps away. “Phones, Belts, jewelry, watches. Place them in the trays.”

I kick off my shoes, and my belt and phone clatter into the plastic bin, followed by my necklaces and bracelets. The guard scans us once more as if committing every detail to memory, leaving no feature unnoticed.

“Step through the body scanner.”

Another line. Another round of inspections.

“Rules are simple,” he announces, commanding the space the way he would with a line of recruits, not a class of students. “You’ll stay in the designated areas. Common spaces only. No stepping into restricted zones. No touching inmates. No exceptions.”

Another pause.

“If an alarm goes off, drop to the ground and stay down. Guards will respond. Do not move until you’re instructed.”

A few students glance at each other, but no one says a word.

“Move out.”

The doors slide open with a metallic groan. We step forward, the hallway stretching ahead of us. Cameras blink from the corners. Thick, reinforced glass runs along one side, giving a perfect view into the first common area.

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