Page 76 of Craving Venom

“You must beFaith.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE BEAUTY

My breath stalls.

Every single instinct in my body screams at me to run.

But my feet stay rooted to the spot by the sheer impossibility of what I’m seeing. This isn’t an illusion. It isn’t some trick of the light or a mindfuck from the House of Illusions.

It’s Zane. In the flesh.

He doesn’t move from the armchair, but there’s an energy coiled around him, somethingdangerous, like a predator ready to strike the second I make the wrong move.

How?How the fuck is he here?

“What—” I grit my teeth, hating the way I sound. I force myself to breathe, to focus, then try again. “How is—what—how are you here?”

It’s a stupid question, but my brain is short-circuiting, and the words tumble out before I can stop them. My eyes flick to the knife still twirling between his fingers as if he wants me to keep watching.

I brace myself, sucking in a breath, shoving down the panic curling inside.

“Are you here to kill me?”

“I thought you’d be smarter than that, Faith.” Zane runs the pad of his thumb over the blade’s edge. “Do I look like the type to give warnings?”

No.

No, he fucking doesn’t.

He looks like the type to strike first, to leave no room for hesitation.

I keep my expression blank. “Then why are you here?”

Another smirk. Another fucking pause. I can tell he’s enjoying stretching this moment out, watching me squirm even though I’m doing everything in my power not to.

“I was bored.” He twirls the knife again, rolling his wrist. “Thought I’d stop by.”

“Bullshit.”

Zane chuckles, like helikesmy answer.

“Alright,” he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “Maybe because you’re interesting.”

“You broke out of prison and showed up here because I’m interesting?”

“I wouldn’t say broke out,” he muses. “That implies I wasn’t meant to leave.”

A shiver rips through me, but I ignore it. “You’re a criminal.”

He lifts a brow, unbothered. “And?”

“And,” I snap, finally stepping closer despite every instinct screaming at me not to, “you being here doesn’t make sense.”

Zane watches me, his amusement shifting into something quieter, something that makes my pulse skip for a reason I don’t want to acknowledge. “Does it need to?”

I don’t answer. I can’t. Because I don’t fucking know.

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