Page 18 of Sweet Venom

Tall. Broad. Built like a tank and carved from stone, Vernon had an aura of calm menace that never faded. He was Aunt Kadra’s most trusted enforcer—her right-hand hitman, alongside her brother Crow. I’d seen him in action. He wasn’t someone you crossed.

What the hell was he doing here?

“Miss Nicolasi,” he said with a polite nod. His voice was cool. His expression unreadable. Classic Vernon.

I blinked, trying to process. “Vernon? What are you doing here?”

“The Boss wanted you protected while you’re in the city,” he replied. Tone clipped. Respectful. Delivering a message, nothing more.

“Was this Aunt Kadra’s idea or my father’s?” I crossed my arms, already knowing I wouldn’t get a straight answer.

“Both.”

Vernon didn’t elaborate, of course. He just stepped back and gestured to the open van door like this is just a normal Tuesday.

“We should go. You’re late.”

I know I’m late, but how does he know?

I didn’t have time to argue. With a frustrated sigh, I climbed into the van, muttering as I passed him, “Yeah, IknowI’m late. Thank you.”

He grunted, shutting the door behind me as I settled into the seat. The interior smelled faintly of leather and something expensive. It’s weirdly comfortable—too comfortable for a vehicle that looked like it should be used to kidnap people and dump them into the Hudson River.

As the van pulled away from the curb, I glanced at Vernon, who scanned the streets with calculating eyes like he was expecting trouble.

Most people might find that odd.

But in my family?

It was normal… too damn normal.

Chapter

Five

A HEART FULL OF SPITE

Azariel

“Love is like a brain parasite slowly feasting on your last functioning neuron until you’re left with nothing but an empty shell of what you once were.” — A

It was a cold February night where the roses looked almost black under the moonlight. Their deep red petals soaked up the darkness, each rose like a kept secret, sharp-edged and waiting to spill blood.

I stood in the middle of my mother’s garden, the night air heavy with the scent of her roses and damp earth. The gothic arches of thorn-covered vines rose around me like a cage, and for once, it felt right. Fitting. Before, cages had made me feel like a wild animal being contained to keep the world from my destruction, but here in this garden I felt like I was home. Here I felt like I could breathe, and the voices in my head weren’t as loud.

That was why I often hid there when I wasn’t in my parents’ training room sparring with them or Vernon and Crow.

My knife spun in my hand, the blade catching the pale light as it flipped between my fingers. It was a sleek, wicked thing, its edge sharp enough to cut through even the thickest of vines or human parts. That one had been given to me by my father.

When I felt like I was drowning in my head, I came out there with my knives—I always had them on me. I didn’t go anywhere without them. No one would ever hurt me again. The weight of it steadied me, kept me tethered when I felt like the darkness would swallow me whole. I had wanted that at first. I had wanted the dark to consume me until what was left of me was everything ugly and bad in this world, but my family wouldn’t allow it. My parents’ love kept me from going over the edge, and my little sister’s trust in me kept me from giving up. Raiza. She looked like an exact replica of Mom, and she already had me wrapped around her tiny finger.

Because of them, I didn’t allow the monsters in my head to fully corrupt me.

But nights like that one, memories clawed at my mind like they always did. Faces and voices I tried not to remember, shadows that lingered at the edges of my thoughts. I had been nine when they found me—dragged out of a life I had barely survived into a world where I was no longer just a number but a prince. A mafia prince from two different families and organizations.

The adoptive son of the boss of the Parisi family.

The heir of the Solonik Bratva.

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