Page 204 of Craving Venom

“The law’s a joke. A piece of paper written by people who pretend they’re above the blood and dirt. But when it comesdown to it? A piece of paper won’t stop me from tearing the world apart for her.”

The redhead tucks her chin slightly, drawing a deep breath through her nose as if steadying herself before she can ask another question.

“I belong to her,” I finish.

Silence swallows the room whole.

“And there’s nothing more dangerous than a man who’s owned.”

Faith’s eyes snap up, burning with questions she doesn’t have the words for yet. I could get lost chasing every one of them, but deep down, I already know the one that’s coming will land where it hurts most.

“Do you…”

The sound barely escapes her lips.

“…regret it?”

The question slams into me, harder than it fucking should.

“Regret what, baby?”

Her lips press together, but her eyes don’t leave mine.

“The blood on your hands,” she clarifies. “Do you… regret it?”

No.

The answer’s already there, sitting on the tip of my tongue.

But I hate it.

Hate the way her eyes dim before I even speak.

“No.”

Her lashes quiver and her expression slips for a moment before she casts it aside, hiding whatever just flashed through her eyes.

The spark in her eyes is gone, and fuck that, I won’t let her look at me with that kind of emptiness. I would rather face her hate than her disappointment.

So I give her the truth.

“I don’t regret it. If anything, I regret not killing them deader.”

Her knee starts bouncing in a jittery rhythm as if she needs the movement to keep herself from lunging at me.

“I should’ve taken my time.” The words roll off my tongue slower now. “Made them suffer. Made them beg. Should’ve carved them open piece by fucking piece. I should’ve let them know what was coming. Should’ve whispered in their ears while they cried.”

A sharp gasp slips from Faith, barely louder than the others, but it’s the only one I hear. Her chest barely moves, and her eyes widen, not in fear but in disbelief. It’s like her mind is scrambling to process the level of depravity I just laid bare, but she can’t because this is who I am. And now, she knows it too.

“And when I was done?”

A stillness takes over me, so absolute that even my heartbeat seems quieter, as if my body refuses to interrupt this moment.

“I should have bathed in their fucking blood.”

The words aren’t even fully out of my mouth when two guards yank me out of the chair, treating me like a rabid dog. One locks a bruising grip around my arm while the other blocks my path, already reaching for his baton.

“Enough,” one of them growls. “You’re done.”

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