Page 187 of Sweet Venom

And then he exits the room.

And I’m shaking in Jude’s arms.

I found my family, but family isn’t something you can choose.

Or just belong to.

I ruined my mother’s life, and she certainly ruined mine.

37

JUDE

“This is going to backfire.”

I dismount from my bike, ignoring Kane’s words. The last thing I need is his nagging, and the fact that I don’t have Preston to tell him off on my behalf intensifies the burn beneath my skin.

“Are you suggesting we don’t do this?” I flip my gaze toward him. “If you want out, all you have to do is leave. I have Lucia on standby to clean up the scene anyway.”

“Like fuck I will.” He cracks his knuckles. “I’m just stating the simple fact that even though Marguerite was dropped by the Armstrongs, Winston, Lawrence, and especially Atlas will take issue with us touching their own.”

“You’re currently the head of your family and, therefore, can hold your own. I also talked to Regis and made him agree to take care of the fallout if anything goes south.”

A gust of air ruffles Kane’s hair as he lifts both brows. “You talk to your old man now?”

I tighten my jaw because it’s true. I don’t want to talk to that man, let alone ask for his help in anything.

“You know how he’s always in my business. I just decided to use him for protection.”

“Hmm.”

I ignore Kane’s knowing hum and the look he gives me, focusing on our surroundings.

The neighborhood is quiet, the streetlights casting a weak, flickering glow over the pavement, stretching long shadows across the neatly trimmed lawns and pristine sidewalks.

Marguerite’s escape house sits proudly in New York’s suburbs, a place that’s meant to feel safe and untouchable—the American dream wrapped in white picket fences and security alarms.

But tonight, it’s just another hunting ground.

The air is thick with the smell of damp asphalt, the pavement still slick from an earlier drizzle. A dog barks somewhere in the distance, but no lights turn on, and no curtains shift.

As if no one cares to look.

Kane and I stake out Marguerite Armstrong’s house from across the street. The windows are dark, the curtains drawn tight, but she’s in there.

We both know it.

I had Lucia disable her security system as well as the surrounding houses’ security cameras.

“How do you want to do this?” Kane asks. “Offing an old woman is different from slicing up her goons.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that. She should’ve considered her age when she attempted to kill Violet multiple times and actually murdered Pres.”

“Fair.” Kane lifts a shoulder. “Who do you think took out the gunman who shot Preston? Lawrence?”

I frown. Ever since the reading of Preston’s will a couple of days ago, Kane and I have hunted down the men who worked for Marguerite with the help of Lucia and Kane’s expanding intel.

Since we knew they were connected to Marguerite, we managed to locate them in record time.