Sweet Touch of Venom (Lethal Love #1)

10. Venom

Chapter 10

Venom

H e was the reason your brother died.

I clearly heard him wrong.

Heat flares from my nostrils and my hands turn clammy. “You’re lying,” I hiss.

“He’s not, Cinderella. We’ve been tracking down these men for years now. Waiting to strike,” the snarky woman responds.

I squint at the lady that can’t keep her mouth shut. “And you are?”

“She’s part of my extraction team,” Ronan says, leaning back in the chair, crossing his arms.

My brows furrow now. “E—Extraction?…?team,” I repeat. Now I’m really baffled.

“Yes, I am the creator of GenCre.”

My breath catches. Internally, my eyes spread wide like eagle wings, my throat constricts tight enough to look like a mummy, and a glass bubble shatters in my mind, demanding to keep quiet. NOW. Externally, I keep myself settled. I’m not having a mini breakdown over this information.

GenCre: An elite secret organization with a task force so deep, it’ll drown you—and we have been specifically told to not intervene with. We’ve been told stories of the man behind the work, who they called Poison. Ronan’s brow lifts in a way that clarifies what I’m thinking.

Fucking balls. Keep calm. Don’t panic.

“You’re the creator. I would’ve never suspected,” I admit, crossing my leg.

“We can work together.”

I burst out in a hollering laugh. “Why the hell would I work along with you? I work alone.” Mostly true. On this, I don’t want a crew, a team. I want to let my venom loose. And plus, the thought of working with a man I clearly resent doesn’t sit well with me. I want to gag just thinking about it.

His hands splay out, nodding his head. “We are after the same people. It can help eradicate them faster. If not, we’ll only be in each other’s way, and we both know that will not end well for us.” He breathes out exasperatedly, rolling his broad shoulders. “You can stay here.”

“Ro, you can’t be serious. We can’t trust her. She wants you dead,” the no name woman barks, gripping her gun.

Ronan’s head snaps over his shoulder, and she falters back, her gun dropping to her side. She dips her chin to her chest.

Well, damn. On a leash, I see .

“Take a chill pill, darling. I won’t be joining your team of jokes.” I point my head at her. Then my head cocks back to Ronan from his ridiculous suggestion. “You are really insane, aren’t you? I would rather play Russian roulette with myself than be a part of your swat team.”

“We both know you have nothing, Anita. No real home. No place. No family.” His words hit me like a brick to the face, and I see blazing green.

I fling up in the chair, the rope scratching against my skin. The burn sizzles up my arm. “You know nothing about me, Ronan.”

His brow raises. “I know you sleep at a rundown studio. And the only person you have is…?what’s his name?” His fingers snap together. “Olive, is it?” Oliver, you prick.

My eyes fall to my boots. A knife pierces into my heart from his stupid accusations. Something tightens behind my eyes, and I suddenly feel the urge to throw my head back and scream as loud as I can.

How dare he?

Don’t show them your weakness. You’re a killer. General’s rants parade in my head . I grind my lip into my teeth until I taste metallic. I swallow, drifting back to him, giving him a smile and dipping my head. “I have quite the little stalker. Did you watch me fuck myself too?”

The one who doesn’t talk clears his throat, looking down and the lady who has yet to tell me her name, I notice her face flusters. Ronan, on the other hand, his jaw tightens, and I can feel the frustration fuming from him. He leans forward until his lips are near my ear. His scruff slightly caresses the skin on my jawline. I lean away because I don’t want him this close to me because, honestly, I’m uncomfortable. I’m discombobulated with this entire ordeal, and I don’t want to be here .

Turning his head, so his lips only graze my ear and his hot breath filling it, he whispers, “I bet you would love that, wouldn’t you, Peque?a serpiente venenosa .” Little poisonous snake.

A shiver roams through me, unwarranted, and I jerk my chin in the opposite direction. I don’t answer him.

He only leans away, sitting back in the chair that moves each time he does. “Let’s work together.”

I tilt my head up along with my eyes, as if I’m giving it serious thought, and then I look back at him. “Still a hard no. Can you let me go now?”

His jaw is rock hard, and the scent of his wood and amber surrounds my senses; I can’t even part my lips without tasting his aromatic scent.

“You know I’m right. We are on the same team here. I want to avenge your brother. My best friend.” His eyes hardened behind his brown pools.

I toss a humorless chuckle. “Best friend.”

He ignores it. “It’s only a matter of time that you get in my way, and I may have to do something I very much don’t want to.” His voice is nearly a whisper, doused with ominous threat.

I scuff in disbelief. “Oh, like what? You’ll kill me too?” World record, Ronan—killing two family members. Such a noble man. Still, he doesn’t respond to me, but the answer in his eyes differs from the threat in his words.

He squints as if he's confused and scans my face for a second before he leans back further, and I’m thankful for it because any closer I would’ve opened up my mouth and bit down on his lip. Tearing it from his face. That wouldn’t end well for me, would it? His minions would kill me, no question, and I need to live to see my plan through. He can say all this, but do I believe him?

No.

He’s the reason Carter is dead. Dead—in the ground—while he’s above, prancing around and creating underground organizations. I’ll kill them first, then he’s next.

“And the answer.” This time I lean closer, my arms extended, so I can be just as near as he was to me. His eyes flick down to my mouth briefly before slowly gliding back up. “Is still no.”

I can see the slight twitch in his sliced lip, the darkness engulfing his eyes from my answer. The air is thick and heavy; the light above dims with a flicker, as if the energy between us is so potent that it surged through the electric currents and atoms in the air, causing a near power down.

A sly smile parts gracefully on my lips. “I’m going to hurt you, Ronan. You’ll die an unimaginable death that’ll make you wish that bullet was given to you. Then, I’ll string you up like that ass wipe I did at the house and carve you like a Halloween pumpkin.” Every last word and syllable held with emphasis, gliding off the roof of my mouth and rolling among the tongue, spoken in French. A language I’m sure he doesn’t understand. “Now, let me go,” I hiss out in English, leaning back because my arms are aching and the burns from the tight ropes are increasing.

He watches me intently, like he wants to hurt me, but I see the same shift in his eyes, the same hesitation as when he found out my identity. But regardless of what he wants, I would never work with the enemy.

After what feels like minutes of staring at each other, he stands up. Nearly kicking the chair back. I raise my chin, my chest rising and falling.

Fuck off. I don’t care. Be upset.

He walks behind slowly, making the hairs on the back of my neck shoot up in alert. The sound of a knife flipping out catches my ears, and I tense, not exactly knowing what to expect. I whipped my head around to see him kneeling. He grips the top of my arm gently, and I tense once more from his hold. It’s warm, calloused, and large. His rough hands glide down my sweaty arm; each skim is like stepping blocks, like he’s feeling whether I’m real or not. Until he hits my bunched hands and cuts the ropes off.

“Ro, what are you doing!?” The lady on high alert stepped further. The other man has been quiet this whole time. He’s only been watching like he’s ready for me to blink wrong.

Bringing my arms around me, I massage the ache on my skin where the ropes were digging in. I glare at them all.

“How can you know we can trust that she won’t bring anyone back to kill you? Or us.”

Truthfully, she’s not wrong. At this point, I’m not sure what to think. I just know I need to get out of here.

“My things.” I stand, the sharp stab in my rib knifing me in the bone, but I don’t wince. I roll my lips into my teeth and face Ronan, who walks over to the white table that sees more dirt than the actual ground; he grabs it off the edge. I meet him halfway, my eyes on him. I continue to stare at him as I feel around, checking for my things.

Brass knuckles—check.

Gun—check.

His gaze is fierce and dark and mine, no less. He digs his gold eyes into my face, and it almost makes me want to look away, but I won’t.

However, I am missing one thing. I extend my hand. “My dagger.”

His lips curl up a bit. Not much, but the wickedness in his eyes speaks for themselves. He reaches behind his back pocket, retrieving my dagger.

My heart soars. I missed you, baby. I thrust my hand out to snatch it. He pulls back. My neck tightens. “What are you doing? Give me my knife.”

He sucks his teeth, eyeing the metal as if he hadn’t seen it before. “I think I’ll keep it.”

My lips part as blood drains from my face. I stay calm. “How’s your nose, by the way? Stinging still?”

That tiny lift to his lips falls, his eyes dulling. “Just fine, actually. But if you want your dagger, you know where to find it.”

Anger boils under my shirt. I’m ready to deck him again, but I’m sure if I do, then the two looney toons will hurt me.

I send a tight smile. “Have it, asshole.” I hope it pokes his hand, and he dies from the poison. An evil chuckle sounds off in my head as I imagine him poking the tip like Aurora on Sleeping Beauty . He won’t go into a self-induced coma, that’s for sure.

But I roll my eyes from the faded amusement glorifying his face. I fix up my holster around my waist. “And my hoodie. Do you want to keep that too?” What was the point of taking it off, anyway? If you want to see me naked, just ask.

“Over here, Cinderella.”

I swirl around the heel of my boot in time to see the lady with an annoying snarl throwing it toward me. Someone’s upset.

I catch the hoodie with one hand and pull it over my shoulders. “Have your parents ever taught you respect? You don’t throw things at people. It’s bad manners.” I add on, knowing she’s already not feeling me. Her olive skin reddens with rushed blood, and she lets out a growl, charging toward me. I stand there, crossing my arms with my eyebrow raised. Ronan and the big man in the corner come rushing toward her to prevent her from possibly clawing at my face.

Ronan’s head snaps to me with a grilling hard stare. “Leave. Now.”

I’m not afraid of her, and I don’t care if I hurt her little heart. I huff, walking past them as the man with the red hair cools the tiger off. Ronan just watches me as I exit out the door.

She calls me Cinderella, but I’m nothing like her. There’s no pumpkin awaiting me outside these walls, and there’s damn sure no Prince Charming sweeping me off my feet into a sweet abyss. It’s just demons and dark skies in the night, carrying me away as I ignore the sting from Ronan’s words as they fester.

I insert the dangling number key for the room, swinging under my palm. I walk in as I’m met with a swoop of cold ass air from the humming AC vent and a dry smell that should come off like the room is fresh and clean, but I’m sure it’s nowhere near.

Motels aren’t my thing, but the thought of driving around the entire Hollow City searching for a luxury hotel already has me fatigued, and my mind is screaming ‘no.’

I’m tired. I toss my bag onto the thin, carpeted, dirty green floor and flop onto the bed, letting out a tired huff and lying flat on it. I stare up at the ceiling, thinking back on every single thing that had happened. Tonight was a gigantic lightning fuck.

After being blindfolded again and transported in a truck with his other team of losers, and practically thrown out in front of the bar, I dusted myself off like nothing happened. Although my insides were burning with the unknown and rage.

After Ronan spilled the hot beans on knowing my location, I immediately knew I wasn’t going back to the ‘rundown’ apartment. It wasn’t the Hamptons, but there was a humble candidness to it.

Either way, I’m uncomfortable with the thought of sleeping there. I might as perch myself up onto a flag with paint that says, ‘look at me, I’m Anita Velz.’

Not happening.

I would’ve slept on the floors of the library basement, but if he’s been following me, then I’m sure he knows that too. It’s exposing and violating. And I’m beating myself in the head for not catching on sooner.

I release another exasperated sigh.

I didn’t love the apartment, and I could’ve gotten better if I wanted to, but it felt nice to almost have something to settle down with for a few months. Not constantly on the move and never having your own sanctuary. A place to go back to after all the chaos. A home.

I can’t stay here forever, but I’ll find another place. It may be outside of Hollow City, but it’ll have to do while I finish my duty.

After a few conscious thoughts, I shower, scrubbing my arms and legs with an extra force to get the touch of that man off me. Asshole .

And for him to keep my dagger?

My heart thuds faster under the pebbles of the water. It only angers me because it’s not just a dagger . I’ve had that blade since I was twenty-one; after my father died, I had it made specifically for this reason. It was a pledge to me that I’ll one day get the men and kill them with the toxins on my blade. A reminder of my goal, my purpose. And that I would never let my father down because if I not for that, what point would I have served?

Would it all be a waste? All the pain and late night tears that I had to hide… All the horror and blood. I can’t, and I won’t allow it.

I step out of the shower, wrapping my body under the towel; the bristles are not very soft, but it’s better than nothing.

I stroll back into the open area, ready to put on the spare shirt and underwear I kept in my car, until I see a flashing light coming from my pocket holster. I narrow in, my heart making its way to my stomach slowly.

What is that?

I creep over to the flashes; the holster hanging over the chair, tucked into the brown desk. I reach inside, hesitating. It could be a bomb. Or a camera.

No one touched me tonight—well, besides you know who. I blink several times before plucking out a circular black card. Disk?

And in bold, the letter G.

My heart officially squeezes like a crushed soda can. When and how? Those questions are useless. The real one is—what is this?

I lift it up, inspecting the smooth metal with the gold letter G that is engraved on top of a button shaped like a thumbprint.

My head shakes. What if he has my location now? My breath quickens; he can find me again. I clench the device in my hands, my frustration spiking to the pale-yellow ceiling.

He’s the owner of GenCre. Of course, he can find me and slip in shit undetected. Even when I said I’ll avoid them at all costs, I happen to physically fight the creator—and to make matters worse, he’s already my enemy. I can’t say I’m not impressed, though. The stories of GenCre are not pretty, and that means Ronan is really not the one to fuck with. And that also means I don’t give a fuck.

I didn’t get through this lifestyle cowering away from the boogeyman. I’m the one to blow him up and devour his black soul. Fear is a word—not a feeling.

Something I have always told myself to keep thriving and afloat.

I slow my breathing. If he wants to find me, I’ll be here with my gun raised and ready to shoot.

I throw the disk onto the floor, grab my boot, and slam the heel directly on the top, smashing it to smithereens.

Same way I will smash his head.

May the last shadow stand.