Page 93 of Craving Venom
“No shit. Thought you were in here for tax fraud.”
His lips press together, but after a second, he exhales. “He raped my girlfriend.”
I nod, keeping my hand firm on the bar, letting him breathe through it. “Is that so?”
Mark swallows. “Yeah. I didn’t even think about it. Just saw him and I fucking lost it.”
I hum, watching the way his grip tightens. “You beat him to death?”
His jaw clenches. “Crowbar.”
Interesting.
“And looks like your girl didn’t appreciate it, considering she hasn’t called you ever since you got here.”
Mark’s breath stutters, just for a second, but I catch it.
“She was forced.” He stares up at the ceiling. “They made her take the stand against me.”
I snort. “Right. That’s what she told you?”
Mark’s fingers flex against the bar, his knuckles whitening. “She didn’t have achoice.”
I tilt my head, pretending to think. “I don’t know, pretty boy. Women tend to do what theywantwhen they care enough. If she actually loved you, maybe she would’ve—oh, I don’t know—not testified against you in a murder case.”
Mark’s nostrils flare. “She was forced.”
“You keep saying that like it means something. Funny how the world works, huh? You kill a guy for her, threw your whole fucking life away, and she gets to walk free while you rot in a cage.”
Mark grits his teeth. “She didn’t want this.”
“Sure about that? Maybe she isn’t as innocent as you think.”
Mark’s eyes snap to mine. “She wasn’t fucking around on me,” he bites out. “Don’t insinuate that.”
I lift my hands, feigning innocence. “Relax, pretty boy. Just saying, she moved on real fucking quick for someone who ‘didn’t have a choice.’”
Mark’s nostrils flare, his grip on the bar turning white-knuckled.
“Maybe she’s with someone else now,” I muse. “Maybe she was already fucking someone else before you even—”
That’s what does it.
Mark presses the bar up—easily this time—and slams it back onto the rack before sitting up fast. Before I even blink, he spins on me and his fist flies.
It’s fast. Much better than his last attempt.
But I’m faster.
I see it coming, shifting just in time to block it. His knuckles glance off my forearm, but there’s real force behind it this time.
“See? Told you strength comes from what drives you.”
“You’re a jerk,” he mutters, shaking his head.
I chuckle and toss him a bottle of water. He snatches the bottle from the air, twisting the cap off before taking a long swig. After a second, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and eyes me. “How are you so good at this?”
I lean against the bench, running my tongue over my teeth. “I once had a mentor too.”
