Page 38 of Beautiful Venom
Great. Now I have to make do with ten players. Sometimes, Jude is just the most unreliable human I’ve ever come across.
When his brain functions, he performs miracles. When he allows his impulses to take over, he’s no different than an untamable wild horse.
I stare at him as he sits down, resembling a trapped animal. He’s been strange lately. And by strange, I mean he’s a hassle to maintain.
Even my impeccable containment skills have been falling short.
Something that hasn’t happened in all the time I’ve known him.
Which is our entire lives.
“Ready to be buried beneath ice, Davenport?” Preston, the captain and center of Team B, asks before the face-off in their offensive zone. “Your team is useless without a right winger.”
I keep my eyes on the puck.
Preston might be the master of pushing buttons, but that’s only because he makes it his mission to exploit his opponents’ weaknesses. He’s an expert at studying human nature and singling out the exact words that will ruffle the other person’s feathers. He’s gotten checked and thrown around more times than I can count, but he often comes out of it grinning in that slightly provocative manner, while Jude goes ballistic and starts a fight.
It's been our dynamic from the time we were shipped off to boarding school. Someone picked on Preston because he was scrawny and weak-looking, and Jude dismantled them. Sometimes, while bringing me along.
I preferred making their lives hell without lifting a finger, though.
As we grew up, Preston lost the childhood weakness, but not the antagonistic behavior.
It became ten times worse.
Too bad for him, though. I have no weaknesses he can exploit, so his methods have never worked on me. His words are merely white noise.
I steal the puck for my team and tie the score. The coach shouts instructions at Preston’s defense, sounding like he wants to strangle them.
Despite my best attempts to minimize the damage, Team B’s power play allows them an advantage I can’t shake off. By the time Jude comes back, we barely manage to hold on to the tie.
He body-checks like a motherfucker and nearly gets another penalty for the reckless play.
We end up winning, but the coach lectures us about being responsible on the ice before he lets us go shower.
“I have an idea for taking care of the Callahan problem,” Preston whispers to me after I step out of the shower, a towel wrapped around my middle, and head to the locker side.
Preston has already finished showering, changed into jeans, a white shirt, and a Vipers jacket, and is currently styling his golden hair back with a comb. Every strand is perfectly in place.
I open my locker and drop my towel, then pull on my boxer briefs and sweatpants. “We can’t break his legs.”
“Aw, but that will save us from his shenanigans.”
“It’s a no.” Still not looking at him, I rummage through my duffle bag for a hoodie, then pull it over my head.
Preston parks his back against the locker next to mine, his stare turning icy, and his light mood shifts so fast, it’s as if it were never there. He’s the textbook definition of ASPD. He’s been diagnosed with sociopathy, bipolar disorder, and a basketful of other mental issues. He’s rumored to have killed his mother. A fact no one but himself can confirm or deny.
Preston has the reputation of Prince Charming. A heartthrob with golden hair and bright-green eyes. He loves girls and fucks anything in a skirt who’s willing to choke on his cock.
But Preston, like all of us, is an expert at maintaining an image. He may even be the best at it. Because behind the heartthrob princeling personality hides a monster who loves to watch others suffer. While he rarely indulges in violence, he gets off on the sight of blood and the view of eyes going empty.
Whenever we’ve had missions to eliminate potential Vencor enemies, I’ve taken them out with a silencer. Jude usually beats them to death, which is messy and unnecessary. Preston, however, makes sure to stretch it out for as long as possible. With his knife.
He also really despises those who ruin his plans and aspirations and becomes a fucking lunatic when things don’t go his way. He’s not impulsive like Jude, but he’s deadly.
I can sense the subtle change in his tone even as he smiles. “I will not have that piece of fucking shit sabotage my game against the Stanton Wolves, so if you won’t do something about it, I will.”
“Our game.”
