Page 6 of Sweet Venom

Daddy might look like an angry bear most of the time, but he has the softest heart—but just for his family. Everyone else gets the side that my Uncle Enzo loves to poke.

And my Uncle Enzo? He’s the boss of Detroit. They were both born into mafia royalty, as was my Aunt Kadra.

And even though they have seen and done unspeakable things, they’ve never let it touch their families.

They wanted better for their kids, and they sacrificed a lot for it. I still don’t know half of the things they’ve lost, and I’m not sure if I ever will. They don’t share that part of them with us. At least, Dad doesn’t.

“Just... over there,” I said, pointing to the counter. I bit my lip to hide my smile as he nearly knocked over a chair in the process and muttered, ‘fuck.’

“You have a lot of shit, little witch,” Dad grumbled, setting the box down with a thud. He straightened up, rubbing the backof his neck. “I’m not sure about this ‘moving’ thing. You’re too far away from me. You sure you don’t want to just stay home?”

“Dad, we talked about this,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I need to be here for work.”

Mom glided into the room like a vision, her beauty as timeless as ever—even with tears shimmering in her eyes. She wore fitted mom jeans, a black turtleneck, and white sneakers. Somehow, she looked effortlessly stunning, even in something casual. She was exactly the woman I’d always admired.

But even then, her proud smile couldn’t hide the sadness in her eyes.

“My baby,” she whispered, stepping toward me and gently cupping my face. “I can’t believe you’re really doing this.”

Her voice trembled as she brushed a strand of blue hair from my cheek, and I felt my chest tighten under the weight of her unconditional love.

“Mom, it’s not like I’ve moved to another country. It’s just New York,” I said, leaning into my mother’s soft and gentle touch.

Mom sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “I know, love bug, but it feels so far away. You’re all grown up now. I just…” She trailed off, her tears spilling over.

Dad, hating to see Mom cry, stepped in, clearing his throat loudly. “All right let’s not drown the kid in sentiment, baby. She’s got boxes to unpack.” He tossed me a wink, though there’s a flicker of emotion in his blue eyes that he quickly masked.

I laughed softly, brushing off the lump in my own throat. “143.”

My parents shared a look—Dad’s eyes softened, Mom wiped her tears but not quite succeeding in composing herself. I stood between them, feeling the bittersweet weight of the moment.

“143.” They both said in unison.

That number means everything to our family.

It meant ‘I Love You.’

And I did.

I loved my parents more than I loved writing, and I loved writing it a lot.

They’ve been my biggest cheerleaders and champions since the day they brought me into this world. Me and my twin brother Vade and baby brother Cassian.

“No more tears,” Dad grumbled, gently wiping Mom’s eyes before pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. He wiped away a tear of his own.

“No more tears,” Mom echoed, giving me a weak smile.

“I’ll call every day, Mommy. I’ll visit as much as I can. Promise.”

Yes, when I was feeling overly sentimental—which was almost never—I called my parentsMommyandDaddy.

“It seems I still hadn’t learned how to let go of my babies,” Mom said, wiping at another tear.

“Please don’t,” I whispered, choking up. “Never let go. We’ll always need you. Always.”

“My sweet girl.” She walked over and pulled me into her arms, giving me a tight squeeze before whispering, “My Poe. I love you till the stars lose their shine.”

“That’ll never happen,” I mumbled.

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