Page 170 of Craving Venom
I push off the bunk and stand.
My feet hit the floor as I walk to the metal shelf at the far end of his cell. I pull open the drawer and grab the towel he uses after showers. I wipe the streaks of his come off my hand. Behind me, I hear the soft rustle of fabric. I turn but he won’t look at me.
I toss the towel to him anyway. It lands on his chest, and he grabs it. Neither of us says anything. I turn toward the door and make it two steps before his voice stops me.
“Can I ask you something?”
I halt mid-step, tossing a look over my shoulder, one brow arching in question.
“Why did you let Terry die?”
“I didn’t,” I say, turning fully towards him.
He frowns with the towel clenched tightly in his lap.
I let him in on the plan about how Terry and I spent six months digging a tunnel straight out from his cell. And Mark listens like I just told him Mickey Mouse was real and passing out golden tickets in the yard.
“We were on our way out, crawling through that tunnel,” I continue, the memory lighting up behind my eyes. “Terry had a contact on the outside. A truck waiting past the north fence. We thought it was bulletproof.”
I step away from the wall and move slowly back into the center of the cell, not close—just far enough that I can pace.
“But we didn’t know about the explosives buried beneath the foundation.” I flex my fingers. “Security had planted motion-based sensors when they detected movement, they activated the detonator. It wasn’t supposed to cause real harm, just chaos so that the guards knew. But Terry had smuggled his own stash of explosives as part of our escape plan.”
I move to the far side of the cell and drag a chair closer, spinning it and dropping into it backwards. My forearms rest across the back.
“The second his boot touched that pressure plate, it was over. The explosion was powerful enough to tear through everything in its path, obliterating walls, scattering debris, and leaving nothing but smoke, fire, and fragments of Terry’s DNA.”
“And you… you left him.”
“I ran,” I admit. “Yeah. I ran like a coward. I was supposed to go first. But Terry insisted. Said I had more to offer if shit went wrong. Said he was expendable. So I let him lead.”
“I’m sorry,” he slurs the words quietly. “I didn’t know.”
I look at him, not with anger and not with regret, but with the brutal and ugly truth laid bare in my eyes.
“No one did,” I murmur. “That’s how I like it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
THE BEAUTY
Isip my wine, the bitter red tingling on my tongue as my eyes stay fixed on the screen. Christopher Valehart is nothing but shadows and scattered background mentions, without a single detailed profile or tell-all exposé.
Isabella, on the other hand, has page after page of polished public praise. She’s regarded as a beautiful philanthropist and a devoted mother. Everything about her is painted soft and angelic. There’s not a single article that dares to suggest she ever laid a hand on Zane.
I drink the last of the wine, toss the phone away, and collapse into the bed. At some point, the blanket finds its way to my chest. My eyelids slip lower, pinned down by a weight I can’t shake.
Sleep comes fast, and it doesn’t feel like I’ve been out for long when it feels like I’m slipping right off the bed. My brain registers it, but my body doesn’t care. It’s tired and heavy, and honestly, if I fall, maybe I deserve to. Maybe the impact will knock something loose.
I let myself drift.
Just as I begin tipping forward, a hand catches the side of my head and steadies it gently against the pillow. My breath jerks in my chest even before my eyes snap open. When they do, Zane’s face is already there, hovering inches above mine.
Moonlight slips through the slats of my blinds and slices across his cheekbones. It softens the bruises under his eyes, glints off the stubble on his jaw, lights up his irises like ice cracking under pressure. He looks like a dream, or a statue, or some creature that only steps into your world when you’re too dazed to tell it’s real.
But I know better.
Even the sweetest wine can poison you if you drink too much.
