Page 85 of Sweet Venom
“And you’re grumpier than your boss.” I sigh. “Has he ever mentioned how all of this will end? I mean, I know how, but has he ever talked about when he’ll finally do it?”
“You believe he’d kill you?”
I nod sharply. “He’s made that clear countless times. But it’s been months since he promised that, and he still hasn’t taken any steps, so it’s making me a bit anxious. Okay, a lot. My depressive episodes are worse, and his lack of action makes me overthink… Forget it, I don’t want to waste your time with that. Just…can you talk to him or something?”
“I’m telling you this once, so listen carefully, Violet.” He throws me a look. “If he wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now. He wouldn’t be wasting his time and resources this way.”
“W-what?”
Mario opens his mouth to say something else, but the quiet is shattered by a sudden screech of tires against pavement.
He stiffens, his hand reaching behind his back out of instinct. I turn just in time to see a van hurtling toward us, its headlights off, its engine snarling in the dark like a nocturnal beast.
Just like that day.
The day he was shot.
Oh my God.
The van barrels forward, cutting through the silence with its raw, hungry speed. My breath catches, lungs locked, heart thudding.
And for one terrible, disorienting moment, I just stand there.
Frozen.
Paralyzed.
My body refuses to move, as if it’s still trying to understand whether this is real or another nightmare I haven’t woken up from as I catch a glimpse of the driver.
A silver mask stares at me through the windshield. The glow from the streetlights catches on its edges, revealing serpentine details coiled along the surface, twisting and curling like it’s coming alive.
The sight sends ice through my veins, my pulse slamming against my ribs and my hands shaking.
For someone who often thinks about death, actually facing it is making me jump out of my skin.
What about Dahlia…? You promised to never leave her alone in this world.
Move, Violet, move!
Before I can do so, Mario shoves me back, hard.
A gunshot rips through the night as he fires at the van, and it swerves, its tires screeching, but it keeps coming.
Mario fires again, aiming for the driver. Another crack of gunfire, but this one misses as well.
Then, from the side, a motorcycle comes out of nowhere.
I barely have time to register the gleam of metal before it slams into Mario at full speed.
His body snaps backward, legs twisting unnaturally as he crashes against the pavement.
No. No. No.
The wet, sickening thud sends a shock wave through me, and my stomach lurches at the sound of bone hitting concrete.
“Mario!” I lunge toward him.
“Run!” He groans from between clenched bloody teeth.
