Page 37 of Crowned In Venom

37

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" E nough."

The Matriarch’s voice slices through my screams like a blade to the throat—cold, sharp, final.

I barely hear her.

Varkos is bleeding out in my arms, his weight heavy against me, his body going limp.

"No, no, no—" My hands press against his wound, useless, helpless, shaking.

His skin is too pale, his breath too faint.

I don’t realize I’m still screaming until I’m yanked backward by my hair.

I barely feel the pain—only rage, only terror.

"He won’t die."

The Matriarch’s words freeze the blood in my veins.

I twist, thrashing against the hands holding me back.

"You’re lying!" My voice is raw, desperate. "You just— you?—"

"I won’t let him die," she continues, her silver eyes gleaming with something cruel. Something victorious.

"Not after everything I have done to keep him alive."

A cold chill slithers down my spine.

"What…?"

She smiles.

A slow, poisonous thing.

"Did you really think the poison would kill him?" she muses. "That he was strong enough to end me?"

She kneels beside me, her hands stained red with her own son’s blood.

"No, little one."

Her fingers trace his face.

"I have spent years weakening him."

"Feeding it to him in small doses."

"Letting him believe he was growing stronger when, in reality, he was breaking piece by piece."

My stomach turns.

"No—"

She hums, almost gentle, tilting her head as she brushes damp strands of hair from Varkos’s face.

"But I never let it take him, no."

"I kept him alive."

"I watched his body struggle, then I pulled him back from the edge, over and over again."

A slow, torturous death, stretched out over years.

I feel sick.

She has been toying with him.

Letting him believe he was in control.

Letting him think he was winning.

And all the while, she was breaking him from the inside.

A long, drawn-out torture.

A lesson.

She has never wanted him dead.

She has only ever wanted him obedient.

"You monster—" I choke.

She sighs, as if bored.

"Take him away."

"NO!"

I lunge forward, trying to grab him, trying to hold on, trying to keep him from slipping away.

Hands wrench me back.

Varkos is ripped from my arms.

I claw at the guards, thrashing, kicking, biting, my body fighting for him on pure instinct.

"DON’T TAKE HIM?—"

A sharp kick slams into my ribs.

I collapse, the air ripped from my lungs.

Pain explodes across my side, but I barely feel it.

Only rage.

Only desperation.

The last thing I see before the guards drag him away?—

His still face.

His bloodstained body.

And then—he’s gone.

The doors slam shut.

I am left alone.

With her.

I pant, my ribs aching, my vision blurring.

The Matriarch stands over me.

For the first time, her smile falters.

Her rage is palpable now.

"You should be dead."

Her voice is low. Cold.

"I should kill you right here."

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to sit up, my body screaming in protest.

"Then do it," I spit, blood dripping from my lips.

"Kill me."

She watches me, silent for a moment.

Then—

She laughs.

A slow, vicious sound.

"No."

Her boot slams onto my chest, pinning me to the floor.

I gasp, pain lancing through my ribs.

"I want my son to witness your death."

Her weight presses harder.

"I want him to feel it."

Her silver eyes burn with something twisted.

"This lesson must be hard. And painful."

"Because you… seem to matter."

The words drip with disgust.

As if it is a sickness she must cut out.

Her expression darkens.

"And I will carve you out of him."

I snarl, twisting beneath her.

"You will regret this."

"You will regret everything."

Her lips curl.

"Oh?"

She lifts her boot, turning to the guards.

"Take her to the dungeons."

They grab me.

I fight.

But they drag me away.

And for the first time since this began?—

I lose hope.