Page 234 of Craving Venom

Not blank. Hollow. As if someone scooped the soul out and left the shape behind.

She doesn’t even react when I step in.

“Ella,” I mutter into the comm. “Room’s cleared. Come get her.”

Bailey finally looks up.

His smug expression dies the second our eyes meet.

He tries to shift beneath Nina, adjusting his cock. Like he hasn’t realized the air just changed. His hand slides toward the inside of his coat.

Wrong move.

I raise my gun a fraction, just enough for him to freeze. My finger stays firm on the trigger, aimed dead center between his eyes.

“I wouldn’t. Unless you want your brains sprayed across this velvet fuck palace.”

He grits his teeth. “Do you know who I am?”

“I know exactly who you are. That’s why I’m here.”

The door opens behind me, soft bootsteps press into the carpet as Ella walks in. Her braid is tight, her jaw even tighter, as she heads straight for Nina

Bailey tries to grab Nina’s arm, twisting in his seat to block her from Ella as if he’s suddenly grown a conscience. “She stays,” he growls. “You can’t just walk in here and take—”

Ella’s elbow cracks into his throat before he finishes.

He chokes on his breath.

She yanks Nina upright with a grip that's strong but gentle, bracing her with one hand at the waist and the other under her arm. Nina stumbles as her legs are barely able to hold her up.

“You fucking bitch!” Bailey lunges at Ella, clawing toward her ankle.

She kicks him in the face.

His head snaps back against the leather and his nose bursts in a spray of blood as he slumps forward groaning.

Ella guides Nina to the hallway, glancing back once, just long enough to give me a nod.

I nod back.

Door closes behind them.

Now it’s just me and Bailey.

And I haven’t even started.

I head to the bar while Bailey wriggles like a busted worm behind me.

He thinks I’m walking away. That maybe Ella took my sense of justice with her.

He’s wrong.

I don’t even look at him as I step behind the bar and eye the top shelf. The place is stocked with pretentious whiskeys and designer vodkas.

But the tequila calls to me.

I grab the thick-glassed bottle by the neck and rip the cork out with my teeth. The liquor hits my tongue like fire, bitter enough to remind me I’m still human.

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