Page 245 of Craving Venom
I find the article.
DERRICK VOSS, CHIEF LEGAL ADVISOR TO THE VERIDIAN PROSECUTOR’S OFFICE, FOUND MURDERED IN HIS HOME—SIGNS OF STRUGGLE
Same. Fucking. Night.
My blood feels like it’s moving backward.
“Tria,” I whisper, staring down at the screen like the truth might eat its way out.
She wraps her arms around herself, trying to compress her own rising panic. “Don’t do this. Don’t start spiraling.”
“It’s not spiraling if the dots are connecting.”
“No—” She grabs my wrist, hard. “Listen to me. If Zane was The Nighthawk, if he really was some serial-killing boogeyman, you think Trevor would still be breathing?”
My throat closes.
“Think about it,” she goes on. “He watched you kiss Trevor. Right? That would’ve been the first body you found. Head in a blender. Dick in a blender. Something. But Trevor’s alive. So maybe… maybe this is just all a fucked-up coincidence.”
I want to believe her.
I really fucking do.
A knock slams into the front door and both of us jump.
Tria’s hand shoots out, grabbing my arm. I clutch the edge of the desk, ready to throw it at whoever’s behind the door.
“Do you think it’s him?” I whisper.
“The Nighthawk?” she hisses back. “Oh yeah, because if I were a serial killer, I’d knock politely before skinning someone alive.”
I glare. “Not helping.”
We school our expressions the moment we hear a familiar voice on the other side.
“Tria? Are you in there?”
Tria crosses the room fast, already unlocking the door. The second it swings open Xaden’s standing there with his shoulders hunched.
“Fuck,” Tria breathes, pulling him into a hug.
He doesn’t just hold her. He clings. One hand fisted in the back of her sweatshirt, as if letting go will make him fall apart on my ugly welcome mat.
And for a second, watching them so close, makes me feel… weirdly calm.
They fit. Effortlessly. No secrets. No stalking. Just arms and warmth and steady breathing. Something I don’t have.
When they finally separate, Xaden offers me a tired nod and a crooked attempt at a smile.
And that’s when Tria gasps.
Her eyes zero in on the side of his hoodie, on the dark stain spreading near the hem.
“Is that—” she reaches out, “is that blood?”
Xaden flinches back just a little. “It’s not mine.”
“Jesus, who’s is it then?!”
