Page 20 of Venom (St. Sebastian’s at Cravenmoor Academy #1)

Venetia

I walk away from the table, the simmering power of the four of us a tangible thing on my skin.

It’s intoxicating. Three kings, each offering a different kind of kingdom.

Rafferty offers chaos and pleasure, a brutal, honest transaction.

Blake offers an empire, a throne built on strategy and quiet violence.

Viper offers a cage, but he was willing to burn down the world to protect it.

To protect me. The thought is a dangerous, heady thrill.

I am the queen in this game, and they are all my knights.

As soon as we’re out of the dining hall, in a corridor lined with faded tapestries, he yanks me to a stop, his hand clamping around my bicep.

“What the fuck was that?” he snarls, his face a mask of fury. “You don’t make the decisions here. I do.”

“You are quick to react, a necessity in your world. But you are in my world now, Viper. A slow burn is far more satisfying.”

“I prefer instant gratification.”

“That’s not always the best way when dealing with little shits. These are boys, not the men you’re used to.”

He searches my eyes, and I know I’ve made my point without insulting him. He sees I’m right. He nods and lets me go.

We walk the rest of the way to the administration office in a silence so thick it’s suffocating. The woman behind the desk flinches when Viper looms behind me, and she hands over my schedule like it’s a lit bomb. I scan the list of classes and raise an eyebrow at some of the more obscure lectures.

“Advanced Financial Warfare,” I read aloud, a wry smile touching my lips. “The Art of Interrogation. The Geopolitics of Illicit Trade. Dad wasn’t subtle, was he?”

“Let me see that,” Viper grunts, snatching the paper from my hand. He scans the list, his lip curling in a sneer. “Fucking hell. He’s turning you into a mini-him.”

“I’m already a mini-him,” I retort, snatching the schedule back. “Now I just have the paperwork to prove it.”

“Looks like I’m getting a fucking education as well.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” I reply, pinning his gaze. “You’ll be bored out of your mind, probably.”

“You’re my job, wildcat. Watching you listen to some old cunt drone on about money laundering is still watching you. Makes no fucking difference to me.”

Of course it doesn’t. He’s my shadow, my jailer, whether we’re in a bedroom or a lecture hall. The schedule is just another set of bars on the cage, each class a lesson designed by my father to mould me into the perfect weapon. But every lesson they teach me is a lesson I can use.

“First up is The Psychology of Subversion,” I say, folding the paper with a sharp crease. “Room 204. Sounds right up my alley.” I give him a sweet, mocking smile. “Let’s go, Daddy . Wouldn’t want to be late on our first day.”

His eyes darken, but he doesn’t say anything.

The word lingers in the air, and I know now how it affects him.

He has this want to take care of women. More than that.

Wounded birds. But this is more. This is a level he isn’t used to playing at.

He’s my protector, but I don’t need protecting.

He has no idea how to handle that other than with brute force.

I wonder what happened in his past to make him care.

I turn and walk down the corridor, not waiting for him.

The promise of meeting Blake later is a bright, sharp point of light in the oppressive gloom of this day.

This is how it starts, and I need a set of rules to live by.

Viper, I can handle, mostly. But the two heirs who have landed in my lap need to heel.

They are both alpha males, top of the food chain, while Viper is an apex predator.

But if Warrick and Locke think they are the ones controlling this little alliance, they have another thing coming.

Rule number one: Control the heirs. Rule number two: keep Viper on a short leash. Rule number three: survive.

The lecture hall is exactly as I expected: a tiered amphitheatre of dark, carved wood that smells of dust and entitlement.

Every head turns as we enter. Viper ignores them, his gaze sweeping the room before he gestures with his chin to the top back row.

The perfect vantage point. He follows me up the steep steps, his presence a heavy weight at my back, a silent promise that he’s always there.

We take our seats, and the whispering starts, a wave of speculation rippling through the privileged sharks. I cross my legs, feigning an indifference I don’t feel.

The professor is a gaunt man with eyes that have seen too much.

“Subversion,” he begins, his voice a dry rasp that commands attention, “is not about overt force. It is the art of planting a seed. The most effective control is achieved when your target believes the action they are taking is born of their own free will.”

His words land like a stone in a still pond. Rule one: Control the heirs. Make them think this alliance, this submission to my reign, is their own brilliant idea.

Viper leans close, his breath warm against my ear, his voice a low growl that only I can hear. “Or you could just threaten to kill their family. Quicker.”

I don’t turn my head. A small smile touches my lips. “Quicker, perhaps. But where’s the art in that?”

His proximity is a constant, suffocating heat. He’s like a caged panther, radiating impatience and barely restrained violence, but his focus is absolute. He doesn’t watch the professor; he watches the room, cataloguing every student, every potential threat. He watches me.

The professor paces. “The key to subversion is understanding desire. Find what your target wants more than anything else—power, acceptance, love, revenge—and you hold the key to their will. You don’t break them. You offer them the means to break themselves.”

Desire. A dangerous weapon. Blake desires an empire. Rafferty desires chaos. And Viper… what does Viper desire? Control. He wants to tame me, to own me. He thinks that’s his key to my will. He doesn’t realise that my desire is to hold the leash of the monster, not to be his pet.

I feel a shift beside me and glance over. He’s leaning back now, looking utterly, profoundly bored. But his eyes are sharp, missing nothing. He’s a weapon on standby. The lecture hall feels less like a classroom and more like my own personal arena.

The professor drones on, but I’ve already absorbed the core lesson.

When the bell rings, a shrill, modern sound in the ancient hall, releasing us, I gather my things, acutely aware of Viper rising beside me, his body a solid wall of muscle and menace.

“Entertaining,” he says dryly as we descend the tiered steps, the other students parting for us like we’re royalty or a plague.

“Educational,” I counter. “Now, I have an appointment with a king.”

His jaw tightens, but he says nothing, just falls into step beside me, his long strides easily keeping pace. He is my shadow, my constant, infuriating guard. We walk through corridors of stone and privilege. Blake is lingering nearby.

His eyes find me, and a slow, knowing smile touches his lips.

“Venetia,” he says. “Welcome to the real classroom.” He gestures subtly with his chin towards a group of students laughing too loudly.

“St. Sebastian’s is built on legacies. Bloodlines and alliances that stretch back centuries.

Every face on these walls represents a dynasty.

” He pauses, his gaze sweeping over the portraits.

“And every dynasty has its rivals. Its enemies.” He turns to me, his eyes glinting.

“Knowing the difference is the first lesson. The Ashton twins. New money. Desperate for acceptance. They can be bought.” His gaze shifts.

“Eleanor Vance. Old family, no real power left, but she knows every secret whispered in these halls. A valuable source of information, if you can stomach her.”

“Or you could just break her fingers until she talks,” Viper grunts, his voice a low rumble.

Blake’s smile widens slightly. “Crude, but effective. However, a broken finger heals. A carefully planned attack on her family’s last remaining asset is permanent.” He turns his full attention back to me.

“Tell me more about this Maddox creep.”

Blake’s smile thins, a flicker of distaste in his eyes.

“Maddox Headley,” he says, the name a stain on his tongue.

“He is precisely what he appears to be: a bottom-feeder. His family deals in the kind of filth the rest of us are smart enough not to touch. Prostitution, low-grade narcotics. They scrape the dregs from the bottom of our world.”

I stiffen. “They traffick?”

Viper’s hand goes to the back of my neck instantly, and he squeezes gently. It has a reassuring, calming effect.

“They’re desperate for legitimacy,” Blake continues, his voice a low, confidential murmur. “Which makes Maddox predictable. And easily manipulated. He thinks this little hazing for Ana will buy him a seat at her table. He doesn’t realise he’s just the sacrificial lamb.”

“A lamb I’m going to slaughter,” Viper growls.

“You said he’s predictable. What’s his move?”

“He doesn’t have one. He’s a coward at heart; he won’t draw first blood himself. He’ll have his crew do it for him.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s the best Ana can do?”

“At this stage of the game, yes. Your name precedes you, Venetia. No one is going to touch you unless they see you break first.”

“So we make sure I don’t break.”

“I don’t think that’s likely,” he says, his eyes blazing with a lust I was hoping to see. He is sophisticated and suave, which is a turn-on in itself, but I want to know that he wants me, not just my name. “Shall we move on?”

I nod, and as Viper drops his hand from my neck, I catch it, giving it a squeeze of thanks.

He knows me, knows my triggers, and while I hate that, I also need it to help me stand down.

If he hadn’t been here, I’d have run off to kill Maddox already.

His death would’ve been quick and painful, and nowhere near the statement I want to make.

His gaze bores into mine, but I don’t say anything.

I let his hand go and move forward, taking Blake’s offered hand.

It’s a controlled hold. Not a demanding one, but one of guidance, asking for obedience rather than forcing it.

“The key,” Blake continues, his voice a low, confidential murmur that forces me to lean closer, “is to understand that everyone here is playing their own game. Your abrupt arrival has overturned the board.” He steers me towards a vast, arched window overlooking a pristine croquet lawn.

“The old alliances are fracturing. They’re all watching you, waiting to see which way you’ll jump. Who you’ll align with.”

“Or who I’ll destroy,” I correct him softly.

A slow, appreciative smile touches his lips. “Precisely. You don’t need to choose a side, Venetia. You are the side. You simply need to decide who is worthy of standing with you.”

We round a corner and come face-to-face with Ana Countridge and two of her simpering acolytes. Her perfectly made-up face twists into a mask of pure venom when she sees my hand linked with Blake’s.

“Blake,” she purrs, ignoring me completely. “There is a late-night party tonight near the lake. I was hoping you would join me.”

I blink as Blake looks at me with a slow smile. “I’d love to,” he says, turning back to her as I fume on the sidelines, but then I cool my temper. This has placed Blake exactly where he needs to be.

Ana shoots me a look of pure triumph that I try not to roll my eyes at. Her eyes dart to mine and Blake’s hands again before she smiles at him.

I know I shouldn’t, but I just can’t resist. Viper senses it before I’ve even opened my mouth to insult her, and he hisses.

But it doesn’t stop me. “You plan on going all the way with him, Ana? Or are you still saving your pussy for your future husband and hoping he doesn’t want to arse-fuck you, so he finds out what a little slut you really are? ”

Ana’s face goes from triumphant to pure, murderous rage in a split second.

Her two little minions gasp, their hands flying to their mouths in horror.

For a moment, Ana looks like she might actually lunge at me, her fingers curling into claws.

But she doesn’t. She’s too controlled for a public catfight.

“You’re trash, Corbyn-Hale,” she spits, her voice shaking with repressed fury. “You always have been.” She turns on her heel and storms away, her acolytes scurrying after her like rats deserting a sinking ship.

A low chuckle rumbles from Blake beside me, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in an almost imperceptible gesture of approval. “You just declared war with a single sentence.”

“She started it,” I say, my voice light, but my blood is singing with the victory.

“That was exquisitely brutal.”

I turn my head to give him a slow, wicked smile.

“That’s why she fears you. You know her sordid secrets.”

“I guess we know what the plan is, then. This party is for my benefit. My supposed downfall.”

“Instead, it will be the downfall of Ana and her pseudo-legacy.”

Blake and I exchange a smile. I have no idea what tonight will bring, but I know it won’t be my humiliation.