Page 16 of Sweet Venom

Vencor.

Callahan. Davenport. Armstrong. Osborn.

The four pillars of Graystone Ridge. The originators of Vencor. The ones who’ve held this place together—and in their grip—for generations.

The black rings mean we’re Senior members.

The highest rank attainable for anyone outside of direct bloodlines.

Trial, Member, Senior, and Founder.

That’s the order.

And while we currently hold Senior status, we’re in the final stretch. After graduation, we’ll face our last trial and ascend to the position we were always meant to inherit.

Founder.

Kane taps his index finger against the back of his phone. His ring bears the Davenport family crest—a compass rose. It’s a symbol of control, steering direction, and navigating dominance. Fitting, considering the Davenports have monopolized the import and export industry.

I twirl my own ring slowly.

It’s etched with the Callahan crest—a caduceus twisted in thorny vines.

A corrupted version of the medical symbol.

It represents our family’s unrelenting grip on the pharmaceutical sector. Hell, ever since my brother, Julian, took over the Callahan empire, we’ve become unrivaled.

Pres wears the Armstrong crest—a sun and a crescent moon. A nod to his family’s hold on energy, in all its forms.

Then there are the Osborns. They don’t currently have a college-aged member—at least, not officially—but theircrest is a lion’s head framed with gears, reflecting their control over real estate, construction, and every inch of urban development in this town.

Over the centuries, the four families learned to carefully and calculatedly share power.

That uneasy balance eventually gave birth to Vencor, the society we now oversee.

It’s through Vencor that we’ve built our empire—recruiting, shaping, and eliminating as needed. Ensuring that Graystone Ridge stays exactly the way it was always meant to be and that our legacy never dies.

“What the hell are you watching?” Pres peers over Kane’s shoulder. “Is it porn? If yes, why am I not invited?”

Kane slips his phone into his pocket and shoves Pres away. “Why are you even here?”

Pres releases an exasperated sigh. “You keep asking that, and yet you can’t live without me.”

“Highly debatable.”

“You little ungrateful cretin?—”

“Anyway.” Kane slides his attention to me. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I need another name from the list,” I speak in a calm tone I don’t feel.

He raises a brow. “You already took care of Violet?”

My throat constricts, and I feel the veins popping in my neck, my muscles tightening and sporadic fire spreading across my skin.

At just the mention of her name.

Alltheir names.