Page 188 of Sweet Venom
We only found two of them.
The third, the actual gunman who was on the motorcycle and was the one that killed Preston, was already dead.
And it wasn’t a normal death.
We found him in a barren field, crucified to a tree near a hideout. His face was carved out, and his features were unrecognizable.
He had some unintelligible bloody letters etched on his chest and some candy scattered all over him.
“Lawrence would’ve just erased him from existence. That was too theatrical for him or anyone in the Armstrong family,” I say.
“True. Hmm. It’s not Vencor’s modus operandi either, considering its attention-seeking nature and the absence of the cleanup process.”
“Or maybe it was a form of mourning.” I let out a breath. “Different people deal with grief in different ways.”
Our way is definitely slashing people the fuck up.
After Violet falls asleep curled in my arms each night, I cover her up and go out to seek vengeance.
First, my vengeance-seeking avalanche was for my mom. Now, it’s for Violet and Preston.
Seems I can’t live without the constant need to maim people.
“How is Violet?” Kane asks.
I run a hand over my face. “She’s struggling.”
“Obviously. She had too many bombs dropped on her the other day.”
“Yeah, but she’ll eventually accept it.” I clench my gloved hands, watching Marguerite’s windows. “Winston wants toadd her name to the Armstrong family registry. Lawrence and Atlas agree.”
“But she doesn’t?”
“I don’t think so. She told Dahlia the other day that she misses their simple life in the slums.”Away from me.
From whatever the fuck we have.
My jaw tightens until I’m sure I’ll dislocate it.
I don’t give a fuck what she thinks. She’s staying right next to me.
“Yeah, that’s not good.” Kane releases a sigh. “Maybe you should make her feel safer in her current environment instead of going on these killing sprees?”
“I’ll get to that after Marguerite’s dead.”
“All right, then. Let’s get this over with.”
He walks toward the house, his movements calm and deliberate, the streetlight catching on the engraving of his signet ring as he flexes his fingers.
I roll my tense shoulders as I step onto the pavement, the cold seeping into my skin through the leather of my jacket.
We manage to open the door using the code Lucia gave us, and then we walk into the darkness, our steps silent, like the prime hunters we were raised to be.
Kane is covering my back as I go up the stairs, two steps at a time, then stop when we see dim light coming from the last bedroom to the right.
Someone else is here.
We share a look, then move in that direction.
