Page 197 of Craving Venom

Tria and I both turn toward the sound, and a moment later, Lisa barrels into the kitchen, radiating the kind of excitementyou’d expect from someone who just discovered the cure for cancer. Her face is flushed, and her chest rises and falls as if she’s just sprinted halfway across the damn prison.

“You guys are not going to believe what I just saw,” she gushes.

Oh no.

Tria raises a brow, arms crossing as she takes in Lisa’s breathless state. “What’s got you so worked up?”

“There’s a Greek god in the gym.”

“Greek god?” Tria repeats.

Lisa nods so fast I’m surprised her head doesn’t fall off.

“Tall,” she breathes, her hands carving the air the way an artist wrestles a statue into existence. “Built like a machine. And those silver eyes?” She fans herself, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Jesus, I think I forgot how to breathe.”

Zane.

“Wait…” Tria’s eyes narrow slightly as something clicks in her head. “Dark hair? Silver eyes?”

Lisa nods eagerly, practically bouncing where she stands.

“Holy shit.” Tria’s face lights up, the kind of spark you only see when everything finally makes sense. “You’re talking about Zane Valehart.”

“Yeah!” Lisa practically bounces on her toes. “I was in the gym, and I swear to God, I thought someone had carved a fucking Greek god out of stone.” She fans herself again. “And then I realized it was him.”

“Hot Damn.” Tria whistles low, her expression somewhere between awe and curiosity. “I read everything about that case. He’s insane. And so fucking hot.”

A shiver crawls down my spine, and I grip my mug harder to keep my hands steady.

“You saw him?” Tria’s brows lift. “What was he doing?”

“Working out,” Lisa gushes, as though that wasn’t already obvious. “I think he was benching like… three hundred pounds. Maybe more. And he didn’t even look like he was trying. The whole tortured bad boy thing? It’s giving dark romance novel.”

“Honestly? I get it. He’s hot. Like, criminally hot.”

Lisa snorts. “Pun intended?”

“Obviously.”

Hot. That’s what they see? Not the monster, not the fucking killer? And the worst part is, this ugly, sharp feeling flares up inside me, a feeling I recognize as possessiveness. It coils tighter, fueled by the idea that even their gaze on him is something I have the right to resent. The minute it hits me, I recoil, disgust curling in my gut.

“He’s not in a romance novel,” I snap before I can stop myself. “He’s a murderer.”

“We know that.” Lisa’s eyes flick to me, startled. “Doesn’t mean we can’t look.”

Tria lifts a brow, studying me. “You good, Faith?”

“Fine,” I lie. “Just… don’t romanticize him. There’s nothing pretty about what he’s done.”

“You’re no fun,” she teases, nudging me lightly with her elbow. Then she turns to Carlos. “Can we check out the gym?”

Carlos, who’s been silent through their entire Zane Valehart Appreciation Club, stiffens.

“Zane Valehart isn’t someone you want to admire.”

His says it calmly, but there’s something dark beneath it.

“Trust me.”

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