Page 12 of Vicious and Volatile (Vengeance and Venom #2)

I sit at the kitchen counter, my phone resting in front of me. For the last hour, I’ve been writing and rewriting a text to Ophelia, my thumbs hovering over the screen before deleting everything.

What do you even say to someone who walked out on you like that? Someone who looked at you with betrayal carved into their features, someone you’d die for, someone I did just about die for, but who spat your love back in your face?

I settle on the simplest thing I can think of:

Can we meet and talk? I’m sorry for how things unraveled. I should have explained quicker. Please, O.

I hit send before I can overthink it any more than I already have. Then I stare at the screen, waiting for the tiny dots that mean she’s replying. They don’t come.

Ares walks in from the bedroom and leans against the counter across from me. He doesn’t say anything, but his presence wraps around me like a security blanket.

“She’s not going to answer,” I admit, my voice thin.

“She might,” he says, but the set of his jaw tells me he doesn’t really believe that.

Hours pass, and nothing changes. By the time the sun disappears behind the skyscrapers, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve checked my phone. The silence from Ophelia is deafening.

“She needs time,” Ares says gently that evening. He’s been on the phone half the day, taking care of things, as usual, but he’s been there for me the whole day, worry in his eyes. His hand rests on my knee, grounding me.

I bite my lip, staring out the window at the glittering lights of Manhattan. “Ares, what if she—” I bite my lower lip. I don’t want to voice what I’ve really been worrying about all day, but the possibility feels more likely by the moment. “What if she tries to expose you? As a retaliation. She’s so bitter. And she knows enough to cause damage.”

Ares doesn’t flinch, but his eyes darken. “If she does, we’ll deal with it. But honestly, I’m not sure who she would even report me to. The police? For what documentable crime? I’m not really sure what real damage she could do to me, and that’s not me just being arrogant.”

I worry my lip again, my eyes falling to the floor. Her turning against Ares and trying to hurt him would be worse than all the shit she said to me.

Ares’ hand comes to my jaw, bringing my eyes back to his. There’s such compassion there. “Let’s not assume the worst yet. ”

Ophelia doesn’t answer my calls or texts the next day either. And the worry gnawing at my stomach grows worse. Finally, it reaches the point that I jump to my feet.

“Ares?” I call out, my voice shaky.

He emerges from the study, his sharp gaze softening when it lands on me. “What’s wrong?”

I bite my lip, debating whether to say it out loud. “I think we need to get eyes on Ophelia. See what she’s doing. I can’t relax, can’t think about anything else. I need to know what she’s going to do now.”

“Let’s go,” he says simply and grabs his keys. Finally, a tiny bit of a smile pulls on my lips. This is just one of the reasons I love him. There’s no hesitation. He doesn’t say he’s too busy. He just immediately steps up, always at my side.

By the time we leave the penthouse, the sun is blazing hot overhead. I feel bad. Ares might have his sunshades on, but it’s making even me squint. He’s going to have a massive migraine by the end of the day.

“I definitely never expected to be tailing my best friend through Manhattan,” I mutter, as we walk down the street.

Ares glances down at me, his expression unreadable. “You’re worried about her. That’s not a bad thing.”

“I’m worried about what she might do ,” I admit.

We step out into the bustling street, the chaos of the city swirling around us. The air smells faintly of exhaust and freshly mowed grass from Central Park. Ares’ presence beside me feels steady and solid as we weave through the crowd, heading toward Ophelia’s neighborhood. It’s one of the first times Ares and I have truly walked anywhere. Normally, Billings would drive us around, or we’d take Ares’ motorcycle. But neither of those options are particularly discrete .

Ophelia’s apartment is way, way better than my old apartment. Not only did she have a better paying job as a paralegal, but she’d somehow sweet talked her landlord into a killer deal. That seemed to happen with her on the regular. I still marvel at how she pulled this place off as we approach her building.

We don’t even have to wait, because as we step in view of her front door, she strides out, her hair pulled back into a low ponytail. She’s dressed like she’s going to work—smart black work pants, a red blouse, shoes that say she’s serious business. I’ve seen her wear this outfit a dozen times.

We follow her at a careful distance as she walks down the street. My nerves are on edge, every step a tightrope walk between relief that she at least appears somewhat normal and dread over what might happen next.

“She’s heading downtown,” Ares murmurs.

“Hopefully job hunting,” I observe, considering her work attire.

It doesn’t take long to confirm my guess. She stops at a tall glass building, one of the many law firms scattered across the city. She disappears inside, and Ares and I wait across the street, blending into the crowd.

I watch the door, my stomach churning with a mix of emotions. Part of me is relieved that she’s doing something normal, something productive. But another part of me wonders if this is her way of moving on—from everything, including me.

“She’s tougher than I gave her credit for,” Ares says quietly, as if reading my mind.

I glance up at him, his sharp features softened by the golden glow of the blazing sun. “What do you mean?”

He takes a breath, looking around, always alert. “She just was so reactive the other night. For her to turn on you, I made some assumptions. But, she’s been through hell. Just a few days ago, she was nearly starving to death as a prisoner in a graveyard, and now she’s waltzing into the top law firms in New York and asking for a job. She’s still standing. That’s not easy.”

“That’s Ophelia,” I say, feeling a swell of pride. Because it is. Ophelia has always taken care of herself, even though she’s been through so much shit in her life. She will always get through.

Apparently, on her own. Without me.

We follow her to two more law firms, each time keeping our distance. It feels strange, shadowing my best friend like this, but I can’t bring myself to stop. I need to know she’s okay and that she isn’t going to try to go to the police.

When she finally heads back to her apartment, the sky is streaked with hues of pink and orange. We linger outside her building for a moment, watching her disappear inside.

“Do you think she saw us?” I ask.

Ares shakes his head. “No. She’s focused on herself right now. Besides, considering her feelings about me right now, I think we would have gotten a quick, explosive reaction if she had spotted us.”

A curse slips from my lips, but he’s right.

As we make our way back home, the weight of the day settles heavily on my shoulders. I can’t ignore the feeling that something is still off, like a crack running through the foundation of everything I thought was solid.

Ophelia may not have done anything yet, but the silence between us feels like an unspoken threat. And that’s almost worse than knowing what’s coming.