Page 17 of Sweet Venom

“Myluckysocks, Vade.Mom’ssocks!” I tossed a shirt behind me, my voice climbing. “You never listen!”

“Not when you’re like this, no,” he deadpanned. Then he leaned closer to the camera, and his tone shifted. “By the way, have you talked to Dad about Cassian yet?”

I paused mid-chaos, my stomach tightening. “No. Why?”

“Because something’s going on,” he said, setting his glass down. His blue eyes narrowed—the same cold stare Dad had when he was hiding something. “Cass is in trouble, and Dad’s icing me out. You know how he gets when one of us is in deep shit.”

Of course, I knew. Our father was a vault of secrets wrapped in tailored suits and covered in ink. If he didn’t want you to know something, you wouldn’t. Period. It was a skill he’d clearly passed down to our youngest brother, Cassian, who was just as tight-lipped.

I groaned, kicking a shoe aside as I dove into another pile. “What kind of trouble? I tried calling him. He sent me straight to voicemail. He’sneverdone that.”

Vade shrugged, casual as ever. “Who the fuck knows. Something big, though. Dad’s dodging calls, and Cassian’s MIA. Last I heard, he fucked up someone important.”

“That’s not like Cassie,” I muttered, dread creeping in. “And Dad shouldn’t keep it from us if baby brother’s in trouble.”

“Yeah, well,you’rethe favorite. You should talk to him.”

I snorted, shoving laundry off the couch. “I’m not the favorite.”

“You are, though,” he said with that infuriating grin. “You’re the writer. The dreamer. Theartiste.” He dragged out the last word like it was some inside joke—which it was. “Cassian’s the golden boy, I play the black sheep, and you make Dad proud.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I muttered—but I couldn’t completely deny it.

“He loves us equally.”

Vade just smiled wider. “That he does.”

My hand finally landed on a pair of black socks wedged between the couch cushions. “Yes!” I yelled, holding them up in triumph. “Found you, fuckers!”

My gaze darted to the clock on my laptop screen.

“Oh my god, I’m going to be so late.”

Vade chuckled. “What time’s your meeting?”

“Five minutes ago!” I shouted, hopping on one foot to yank my socks on. “It’s with Blackthorn Publishing! The ones who signed me for three books! Abigdeal!”

“Ah, yes, for your panty-wetting stories,” he said with a smirk. “I’ve got a few ideas you could borrow for the dirty parts.”

Gross.

“Nope. Goodbye!” I shouted, grabbing my bag and bolting for the door.

“Good luck, baby sis!” he called before the screen went black.

That was my brother—my twin, older by two minutes. Equal parts infuriating, disgusting, and unreasonably sweet when it came to me and Mom.

“Thank you!” I yelled over my shoulder, already halfway out the door, hair wrangled into place and lucky socks finally on. Whatever was happening with Cassian and Dad would have to wait.

Today was about proving—to Blackthorn Publishing, and maybe to myself—that they hadn’t made a mistake signing me.

I burst out of my apartment building, clutching my bag like it might fly away. The city greeted me with its usual chaos—horns blaring, voices shouting, and the ever-present aroma of questionable street food. I spotted a taxi idling a few steps away and considered flagging it down—until my eyes locked on the black van parked directly in front of the building.

The door opened, and a man stepped out.

My stomach lurched.

Vernon.

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