Page 256 of Tempting Venom
Revenge.
I first killed the guy who sold those people the illegal weapons, then the guy who deleted all security footage, and then I moved on to the guy who pulled the trigger.
Surprisingly, for my first time, murder came so naturally to me. The life I never wanted, being part of Vencor and Dad’s blood-soaked world, caught up to me anyway, but I don’t regret it.
I’d do it all over again for him. I promised I’d kill for him, and I keep my promises.
Unlike him.
That flash of anger rushes through me again. A current so strong, I can barely contain it.
I want to punch him, to shake him, to hug him, then kick him and fucking…ask him why? Why the fuck did he leave me?
Justwhy?
How could he do this to me?
But I can’t ask him that, because he’s gone. All I can do iskill.
I guess I felt like Preston did when he bashed that teacher’s head in.
Liberation.
Actually, as I slashed the face of the man who pulled the trigger, as I crucified him on a tree and carvedPRESon his chest with a knife, then littered mango candy all over him, there was no liberation.
No feeling of satisfaction.
There was only emptiness and the reminder that Preston is gone.
That’s when he appeared—as the sensation of emptiness grabbed hold of me. He was leaning against the tree, flashing me his dimpled grin. “Butchered your first job by leaving so much evidence behind, Osborn. Also, that’s such messy writing. Can anyone even read those letters? No one but me would hire you. Aren’t you the lucky one?”
But when I reached for his ghost, he was gone.
So I thought maybe I felt empty because that gunman was just a contract killer, as per Dad’s words. The one who needs to pay for Preston’s death is the one who ordered the hit.
Marguerite Armstrong.
Preston’s grandmother.
She wanted to kill Violet because she’s her husband’s illegitimate daughter, but those details don’t matter.
What matters is that Preston died because ofher, and she had the audacity to sit at his funeral wearing a straight face.
That woman took away my Preston and needs to pay what she owes me in full.
That’s why I’m in her house.
Apparently, Lawrence exposed her and had her kicked out of the Armstrong mansion, so she’s been in this house in suburban New York.
Being excommunicated isn’t enough.
Even dying isn’t enough.
I stare down at her as she sleeps soundly, her face stretched tight, and she’s releasing small wheezes in the deafening silence.
How dare she sleep after she killed her own grandson?
Though he did say she called him crazy.
