Page 25 of Craving Venom

Tria’s grin doesn’t falter. “Well,hewas hot. You should’ve flirted or something.”

I snort, crossing my arms. “Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

She rolls her eyes, waving me off. “That’s beside the point.”

“Where’s Xaden?” I ask, glancing around.

“Right here,” comes his voice from behind us, and I turn to see him walking up with his usual unbothered expression.

“Let’s go,” he says, nodding toward the exit. “This place is getting weird.”

For once, I don’t argue. As we make our way out of the gallery, I glance over my shoulder at the painting one last time. And for a second, I think I see the words again. But when I blink, they’re gone.

The walk home is slow, mostly because Tria insists on dragging us into an ice cream shop she claims has the“best mint chocolate on this side of the city.”Not that I’m complaining, I’ve been craving sugar since the second we stepped into that creepy-ass gallery.

“Holy shit,” Tria says around a mouthful of mint chocolate chip, practically moaning. “This is life-changing. Xaden, you need to try it.”

Xaden, holding a modest scoop of vanilla, raises an eyebrow. “Mint chocolate chip is toothpaste with chocolate in it. No, thanks.”

“Oh my god, you’re so boring,” Tria groans, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Faith, back me up.”

I lick a trail of chocolate fudge off the side of my cone, trying to keep my face straight. “Honestly, he’s kinda right. Mint chocolate chip tastes like someone dropped an Andes mint in a bowl of dairy and called it a day.”

Tria gasps like I’ve just committed treason. “Unbelievable. This is why your opinions aretrash.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I tease, smirking as she shoves another spoonful of her toothpaste into her mouth.

We’re still bickering about the moral implications of mint-flavored anything when my eyes catch on something up ahead.

The signboard reads: VERIDIAN CORRECTIONAL FACILITY — 3.7 MILES AHEAD.

I falter mid-step, my ice cream suddenly tasting like ash in my mouth.

Far in the distance, past the sloping hills and razor-straight road, I catch a glimpse of the gates. They’re massive, black iron things that look more fitting for a gothic cathedral than a prison. The wordsVERIDIAN CORRECTIONAL FACILITYare etched above them.

Zane’s in there.

“Funny, isn’t it?” Tria nudges me with her elbow.

“What?”

“You keep spacing out,” she says, licking her spoon clean. “First the painting, now this. You’re lucky you’re cute, Faith, because you’re definitely not subtle.”

But I barely hear her. My eyes are glued to the gates, and my brain is screaming at me to stop staring, to act normal, but I can’t.

“Faith? Are you okay? You’re weirdly quiet.”

I snap back to reality and force a laugh, but it sounds hollow even to me. “Yeah, just... lost in thought.”

“Really?” Xaden’s voice is dry, and when I glance at him, his eyes are fixed on the prison gates too. “You looked pretty focused on the sign board back there. Want to take a closer look?”

For a second, I almost say yes. I almost fucking say yes, like the idiot I am.

But instead, I force a casual shrug and look away. “Nah. I’m good.”

Xaden doesn’t push, but his gaze lingers for a beat too long before he turns back to his ice cream.

Tria, bless her oblivious little soul, seems content to move on. “Okay, but back to important things—like the fact that you two have trash taste in ice cream.”

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