Page 200 of Sweet Venom

My lips tremble as I step toward him and hug him. “I’m so sorry, Pres. I’m sorry you went through that because of me.”

“Nah, don’t go emo on me! Juuude, how do I deal with this?”

When I ease away, Preston is grinning as he ruffles my hair. “Actually, Auntie Vee is growing on me after all.”

After the team and the managers welcome Preston back, we go for drinks at my and Jude’s place.

Just the five of us.

The whole drive back, Preston is joking and mixing all sorts of music, but the rest of us are still in shock.

“Stop looking at me as if I’m a ghost.” Preston punches Kane in the stomach before he flops down beside me on the sofa. “See? You can feel that, so I’m as real as it gets.”

“I just don’t understand why you faked your own death,” Kane says.

“I told you, it was Dad.” Preston takes a sip of his beer. “He wanted to smoke out dear Granny and have you kill her because it seems he drew a line at killing his own blood. But, hey, I came back as soon as I was conscious. I’m still in pain, so all of you better nurse me back to health.”

“We thought you were dead.” Jude’s standing, having refused to sit down since we got here. “Violet thought she was the reason you were dead.”

“Sorry.” Preston grimaces. “Blame your brother, or half-brother or whatever. He’s kind of a stone, though, so good luck getting to him. Also, if it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t already tested the experimental coma drug for Julian, Vee. He managed to develop and enhance it, which made my recovery so much faster. BUT, Daddy dearest was mad, like, I’m talking livid, almost punching Julian and stuff. Because it appears the only reason Julian insisted you become a test subject is because of your DNA, meaning he knew you were an Armstrong and kept it to himself, then even tried to make you leave the area so Dad and Uncle Atlas wouldn’t come at him for trying to decode our DNA. Which is, apparently, on Julian’s power-mongering checklist—to know all about the founding families’ DNA. For what reason? No clue, but Dad didn’t like it one bit. Callahans and Armstrongs are fighting, FYI.”

“Julian knew you were alive?” Jude barks.

“Yup, and so did Dad and Uncle Atlas.”

“This feels so surreal,” Dahlia says, leaning her head on Kane’s shoulder.

“I know, right? Unlocked superpower: coming back from the dead.” Preston rubs his hands together. “Anyway, tell me all about how you made Granny scream.”

Kane frowns. “We didn’t kill your grandma, Pres.”

“Of course you did. Dad used you to get rid of her, remember? I almost shed a few tears knowing you avenged my wrongful early exit.”

“It was Marcus,” Jude says.

Preston’s humor disappears. “What?”

“Marcus beat us to it,” Kane says. “He also beat us to killing the hit man who shot you. Osborn crucified him in a gory scene. Your grandma was nearly sliced the fuck up. Both had unrecognizable faces and took a long time to clean up. We only witnessed him killing your grandma, and he looked fucking unhinged while doing it.”

Preston bursts out laughing. It doesn’t sound happy or mocking; if anything, there’s a manic edge to it.

Kane and Jude share a look but say nothing. Preston finishes his beer in one go and tells us all about his ‘adventures’ in the hospital and his ‘Sleeping Beauty days,’ as he calls them.

I’m just glad the results from my coma helped get Preston back. It was all worth it.

Maybe Julian will develop it further, and one day, Mario will also wake up.

While I don’t really like Julian, and I feel he’s a manipulative snake, I respect that he would protect Jude and his friends. I just feel bad for his wife, Annalise. She seems like a genuinely nice person caught in an evil man’s trap.

Not that I know anything about them or have the right to judge. Anyone looking at me and Jude could say the same, but no one sees him the way I do.

Jude walks out to the terraced balcony, and I follow suit, bringing an umbrella along.

I have to raise my hand up to cover him. “Are you okay?”

He looks down at me, takes the umbrella, and tilts it so that it’s covering me, too, raindrops clinging to his jacket, then sliding down the fabric. “Go back inside. It’s cold.”

“Not without you and not before making sure you’re okay.” I plant a palm on his cheek. “I know this is a shock, but at least he’s alive, right?”