Page 198 of Craving Venom

Tria opens her mouth to press for more, but Carlos shakes his head.

“I’ll tell you right now, you don’t want to be on his radar.” His gaze locks on Lisa, his easygoing demeanor gone. “Not unless you’re willing to deal with what comes next.”

“Noted,” I agree.

I don’t look at Carlos or Tria as I start walking down the hall. The hallway opens up, leading us to the heart of the prison, but it’s nothing close to the old prison blocks you see in movies.

These cells are digital, each one linked to an advanced security system. Biometric scanners. Motion detectors. Reinforced glass instead of bars. Cameras watch from the corners, blinking steadily like soulless eyes that never close.

The doors slide open with the quiet hiss of hydraulics when authorized personnel approach, but right now?

They’re sealed tight.

Some inmates sit on their bunks, either reading or pretending to, their eyes flicking toward us every now and then. Others pace the floor, all restless energy and tight muscles, waiting for something to break loose. A few press against the glass, their faces twisted in that same unsettling amusement I caught back in the common area, seeing us as nothing more than entertainment.

I keep moving without stopping, not until we pass a particular cell, and for some reason, that’s when I freeze. I don’t even know what pulls me to a stop.

“You might want to stay away from that door.”

I glance at Carlos. “Why’s that?”

Before he can answer, a new presence interrupts.

“Because, honey, you can’t spell insane without Zane.”

I turn to see a female guard standing at the end of the hall with her arms crossed, a sly grin pulling at her lips. Her brown ponytail is pulled tight and her uniform is crisp, but it’s the playful way she drags out his name that sends a knot tightening in my stomach.

“You don’t want to mess with him, nobody around here does,” Carlos warns.

Tria’s curiosity spikes. “Does he ever… get out?”

“Yeah. But it’s unlikely he’ll be out today. He lost his buddy Mark. Word has it they were close.”

That’s why he looked so wrecked last night.

It makes sense now.

Carlos and Tria keep walking, their conversation picking up right where it left off, but I don’t follow. Instead, my eyes settle on the cell door, and before I know it, my hand is pressed to the cool metal.

What am I doing?

I don’t know.

I let the chill seep into my skin, soaking it in until a faint warmth begins to spread from the tips of my fingers, crawling up my arm and sinking into my veins.

For a moment, it feels like his hand is just above mine on the other side, making me want to reach out and comfort him, to draw him closer even if it’s only through the metal.

The heat builds gradually, but just as I start to adjust, a sudden jolt shoots through me.

Fuck.

The metal door pulses beneath my touch, sending a sharp buzz of energy that bites at my skin in warning. Static zaps against my palm, and I jerk my hand back on instinct.

I follow Tria and Carlos, but my mind is still stuck on the door. We’re halfway down the corridor when a guard approaches from the opposite direction.

“Ladies,” he greets. His eyes flick briefly to Carlos before settling on us. “Just letting you know the inmate behavior study starts in fifteen minutes. Meet us back in the library.”

“Well, that’s my cue,” he says, tilting his chin toward us. “Good luck with the study. Try not to get too freaked out.”

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