Page 14 of Craving Venom (The Venomous Beauty Trilogy #1)

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE BEAUTY

Did your prison WiFi give up on you?

I stare at the last message I sent Zane, my thumb hovering over the screen, torn between deleting it or smashing the entire fucking phone against the wall. Ugh. It’s so fucking pathetic.

I tell myself it doesn’t matter, that he’s just some arrogant asshole with a flair for dramatics.

But if it doesn’t matter, then why does it feel like I’ve been holding my breath since I sent that stupid message?

Like some part of me is waiting for him to fire back with another infuriatingly clever reply that I’ll spend hours obsessing over.

I toss the phone onto my desk with more force than necessary. Fuck him. This isn’t supposed to be personal. It’s not. But it’s starting to feel like it, and I hate that.

A sudden banging on my door nearly makes me jump out of my skin.

“Faith! Open the fucking door!”

I walk to the door and swing it open without thinking, only to find Tria fuming and Xaden standing right behind her.

Tria barrels in the second there’s space, nearly knocking me back with the force of her entrance. “Jesus, Faith, I’ve been banging on your door for ages. Are you okay? You looked like shit yesterday, and now you’re pulling the ‘hermit locked in her tower’ routine?”

“I’m fine,” I say quickly, inviting Xaden inside. “What are you even doing here?”

She tosses her bag onto my bed and crosses her arms. “I’ve got news. Big news.”

Xaden finally steps into the room, closing the door behind him. “She wouldn’t shut up about it the whole way over,” he says, jerking his chin toward Tria.

“Oh, bite me,” Tria shoots back, then turns to me, her eyes lighting up. “Anyway, we’ve got plans tonight. There’s a Holloweek party.”

“A what party?”

“Holloweek,” Tria repeats. “It’s this whole Halloween-week-long thing. Costumes, drinks, dancing—the works. It’s going to be fucking sick.”

I groan, already feeling the excuses forming on my tongue. “Yeah, no. I’m good.”

“Oh, come on,” Tria groans dramatically, flopping onto my bed and sprawling all over it. “You can’t just sit here all night like a weirdo. You need this.”

I glare at her. “I’m not a weirdo.”

“You kinda are,” Xaden chimes in, grinning. “And Tria’s right. You could use a night out. Blow off some steam, let loose a little.”

I cross my arms, shaking my head. “Pass. I don’t do big parties. They’re loud, crowded, and full of drunk idiots.”

“Yeah, and you’re going to love it,” Tria says, sitting up and wagging a finger at me. “Come on, Faith. When was the last time you did anything remotely fun?”

“Watching Netflix counts,” I mutter.

“No. Nope. Not acceptable. This isn’t optional, Faith. You’re coming, and we’re finding you a killer costume.”

“Fine. I’ll think about it.”

Tria perks up instantly, a sly grin spreading across her face. “That’s a yes.”

“It’s not,” I argue, but she’s already pulling out her phone to start Googling costume ideas.

Xaden chuckles, pushing off the wall. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

I roll my eyes. “If this party sucks, I’m blaming both of you.”

“Oh, it’s going to suck,” Xaden says with a smirk. “But at least you’ll be miserable with your friends.”

Tria grins. “That’s the spirit!”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. Maybe this won’t be the worst idea ever.

Yeah, no. This was a bad fucking idea.

The warehouse is barely recognizable under all the Halloween decorations and moody lighting.

A dark glow fills the space, coming from rows of blacklights strung along the rafters.

Shadows stretch long and eerie across the concrete floor, broken only by bursts of strobe lights near the makeshift stage at the back.

Some DJ is up there, already blasting bass-heavy beats that vibrate in my chest.

To the right, there’s a bar cobbled together from what looks like shipping crates and neon signs.

Behind it, bartenders in skeleton makeup are pouring shots into plastic cups at an alarming speed.

Pumpkins and fake cobwebs are scattered around the place, and someone had the brilliant idea to hang bloody, fake severed limbs from the ceiling.

It’s supposed to be spooky, but it just feels claustrophobic.

“This is… a lot.” I hug my arms as I glance around.

“You’re welcome,” Tria says brightly, already bouncing on her heels next to me. She looks completely in her element, rocking a devil costume with little horns and a tail, which, frankly, she’s pulling off way too well.

I, on the other hand, feel ridiculous. Tria picked out my costume, a black corset with a lace skirt that’s way too short for my taste, and she wouldn’t shut up until I agreed to wear it. I’ve been tugging at the hem since we got out of the car.

“Come on, it’s Halloween! Loosen up a little,” Tria shouts over the music, grinning ear to ear.

I glance back toward the entrance, already considering making a break for it.

The walk in here was bad enough—drunk guys stumbling out into the parking lot, shouting shit like “Hey, sweetheart” and “Nice rack!” One asshole even brushed against me, his hand conveniently grazing my tits like it was some fucking accident.

This is why I hate parties. Too many people, too many hands, and zero personal space.

But I glance at Tria again, and she’s glowing. Her smile is brighter than the stupid strobe lights flashing overhead. And that’s what matters, right? If she’s having fun, maybe this isn’t a total disaster.

Xaden disappears toward the bar, promising to grab us drinks, and Tria nudges me with her elbow. “See? Not so bad, right?”

I raise an eyebrow at her, crossing my arms. “It smells like ass, and I’ve already been groped. This is exactly as bad as I thought it’d be.”

“Oh, come on,” she says, rolling her eyes. “It’s a party. Shit happens. Just relax a little.”

“I am relaxed.”

She snorts, grabbing my arms and shaking them a little. “Faith, you’re wound tighter than my bra straps right now. Take a breath. Drink something. Hell, dance if you’re feeling crazy.”

“I don’t dance.”

Tria leans in, grinning. “You’re such a buzzkill. Maybe I should’ve made you pregame before we came.”

“Yeah, because what I need right now is to be drunk and annoyed,” I deadpan, but a small smile tugs at the corner of my lips despite myself.

Before she can fire back, some guy in a skeleton hoodie appears out of nowhere, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the dance floor. “Tria! Come on!”

She glances back at me with an apologetic grin. “Be right back, promise!”

And just like that, she’s gone. I sigh, stepping closer to the wall and leaning against it. My phone feels heavy in my pocket, and I pull it out without thinking, unlocking it with a swipe of my thumb.

Nothing.

My thumb hovers over Zane’s name, but I don’t click it.

What’s the point? It’s not like he’s going to reply.

He probably read my last message, laughed, and moved on.

I lock the phone again, stuffing it back in my pocket with a frustrated sigh.

I press my head against the wall, trying to drown out the noise.

This night better get better fast, or I’m walking out of here, Holloweek party be damned.

The loud pop of a party horn right next to my ear almost makes me jump out of my skin.

“Boo!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Maya!” I snap, clutching my chest as I open my eyes.

“You should’ve seen your face!” Maya howls, barely able to stand upright.

Lisa sidles up beside her, already laughing too, her drink sloshing precariously. “Faith, you looked like you’d just seen the Grim Reaper himself. What the hell were you even doing, zoning out in the middle of all this?”

“I wasn’t zoning out,” I mutter, though I definitely was.

“Right,” Maya teases, her grin downright evil. “You were staring at your phone. Don’t tell me you’re actually texting someone. Wait—” Her eyes widen dramatically. “Is this it? Is Faith Collins finally embracing her social life? Holy shit, I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”

“Fuck off,” I say, glaring at her, but my lips twitch despite myself.

“What’s all this?” Derek asks, slipping into the group effortlessly.

“Oh, we’re just roasting Faith,” Lisa says, waving a hand in my direction. “She’s giving us too much material to work with tonight.”

“She does have that whole tortured academic vibe,” Derek says, nodding sagely.

“Okay, is this ‘pick on Faith’ night, or…?” I start, but Lisa cuts me off with a weirdly serious expression.

“Wait, hold on. While we’re all here, does anyone else ever stop and think about how fucking weird it is that we’re doing this? Like, partying. Existing. Living. Doesn’t it ever feel like… I don’t know… we’re all part of some kind of fucked-up experiment?”

I raise an eyebrow. “What the hell are you talking about now?”

“No, no, hear me out,” Lisa says, leaning forward.

“Think about it. What if we’re all just pawns in some sick game?

Like, God or whoever’s up there, is sitting back with a bag of popcorn, laughing at all the dumb shit we do.

Every time we trip, every bad decision, every awkward hookup, it’s all just entertainment for them. ”

“That’s insane,” I say, but Maya’s already nodding along.

“Actually, it kind of makes sense,” Maya says, swirling her drink. “Like, what if every time you lose your keys or stub your toe, that’s them fucking with you? Just to see how you’ll react.’”

“Exactly!” Lisa says, her eyes lighting up. “It’s like a reality show, and we’re all too stupid to realize we’re the contestants.”

Nina, who’s been mostly quiet until now, jumps in with a sly grin. “Or worse—what if we’re the experiment and the test subjects? Like, they’re trying to see how much bullshit we can handle before we lose our minds. Every breakup, every job rejection, it’s all part of some cosmic ‘stress test.’”

Derek whistles low, shaking his head. “That’s dark as fuck, but honestly? It checks out. Shit’s way too random to just be random, you know?”