Page 173 of Sweet Venom

Lawrence doesn’t react, doesn’t even look at Marcus, his full attention remaining square on the door.

“That’s enough.” Kane’s firm voice slices through the tension as he stops pacing. “Leave before I have someone escort you out using unpleasant methods, Marcus.”

“And let you big shots handle everything, right?” He laughs in Jude’s face, clutching him by the collar. “Like you got him shot, right, Callahan? Useless piece of shit.”

“You fucking—” Jude slams him against the wall, the thud echoing loudly, but Marcus just laughs harder like a maniac.

“What? You’re going to stand there and tell me you didn’t, in fact, invite death upon your supposed best friend?”

“It’s not his fault.” I rush toward them, my voice and body shaking.

Both Jude’s and Marcus’s attention swings to me, and my trembling gets worse at Jude’s stare. It feels like it’s been ages since I saw him, and I almost forgot how brutally beautiful he is.

Like a rush of darkness in the light.

An anchor in the wild sea.

His brown eyes flicker over the length of me, observing, assessing, as if he needs to make sure I’m in one piece.

“It’s my fault,” I whisper to Marcus. “Preston did that to protect me?—”

“That’s right. It should’ve been you.” Marcus barks, and Jude punches him in the face. Blood trickles down his nose and the corner of his lip.

“Shut the fuck up, Osborn!”

“But I’m right. She should be the one in that room right now?—”

Jude punches him again, the sound echoing in the air as more blood drenches Marcus’s face.

And then they’re punching each other, the anger and absolute madness in their violence echoing in thwacks and grunts.

I try to intervene, but Dahlia pulls me away and toward Kane, who’s on the phone, calling someone to come escort ‘a raging bull’ out.

“Jude says this is yours.”

I look up at the sound of Lawrence’s voice, momentarily distracted from the fight.

He seemed completely disinterested in his surroundings earlier, but he’s standing now, and he’s so tall, with a presence that grabs you by the throat.

Lawrence’s hair is styled, his expression lined with years of experience and the look of a man who’s seen it all but wasn’t impressed. His eyes are a curious shade of blue and green—a familiar color I swear I’ve seen before.

But where?

He shows me his palm, where he’s holding the bloodied bracelet I gave Preston.

My lips tremble, but I shake my head and don’t reach out for it. “Pres…Preston said it’s an important family heirloom, so I must’ve had it by mistake. Mom probably stole it or something…”

“But Preston said that’s impossible,” Dahlia interjects, then bites her lower lip. “Sorry, Vi. I told Jude and Kane that Preston lost his cool about the bracelet and seemed to have come to a realization.”

“He did.” Lawrence’s voice is cool and collected but has an underlying tension. “I believe I’m coming to the same realization.”

He’s watching me closely, his eyes skimming over my face the same way Preston’s did that first time I met him and he did an imaginary interview.

Ever since then, Preston’s been treating me warmly, completely negating the rumors that he’s malicious and never stays in anyone’s company for more than a few days. That, aside from Jude and Kane, he distrusts and downright loathes everyone else.

That hasn’t been my experience.

If anything, he’s been so welcoming and has always made me laugh and tried to cheer me up. He made my move to Graystone Ridge such a breeze, as if I was always meant to be here and restart my life.