Page 8 of Venom & Vanity

She lifts her head and the hatred in her brown eyes is so pure it's almost beautiful, almost a relief, because hatred is honest in a way nothing else from her has been.

“Fuck. You,” she spits, each word like a verdict.

I exhale through my teeth because she has just lit a match in a room full of kindling and there is no version of tonight where Bash or Prince let that pass.

My son moves faster than I can track. His fingers tangle in her hair. She screams as he hauls her upright by it, and she surprises every one of us by driving her fist straight into his gut. He grunts. Prince is on her in the same breath, arms locked behind her back, pinning her in place while she thrashes against a hold that was never going to give.

She isn't getting free. She knows it. I can see her knowing it.

Bash grabs her by her hair and gets in her face, a low feral sound tearing out of his chest. “You ever do that shit again⁠—”

“And you'll what?” she screams back, chin lifted, daring him. “Chain me up? Fuck me? Beat me?”

“All of the above. And worse.” He lets go of her hair and steps back like the contact is burning him from the inside out. “Take her in. Tie her to a chair and leave her there.” Prince drags her out, kicking and screaming.

The second they're gone, I rip my mask off. Bash does the same, and for one breath we just stand there, two men with nothing left between us but the truth of what this island has made us.

“She is a means to an end—” I start.

“I know!”

“Then stop fucking looking at her the way you do!” The words come out harder than I mean them to. “She fucked you over, Bastian. She fucked all of us over and now we're stuck here, paying for it every single day. She is leverage. Nothing more. We use her against her father and we get our freedom back.”

He shakes his head, and something about the set of his jaw tells me I'm not going to like what's coming. “No one is looking for her, Dad.”

I reel back. “What?”

“She was brought here by the Keeper.”

“Your point?”

“My point is she was sent here. By her father, her stepmother, or both, and you know as well as I do there's no walking off this island without a pardon signed by every ruling crown..”

Dread drops through me like a stone through dark water. “No,” I say, but there's nothing behind it.

He puts a hand on my shoulder, and for a second he looks older than he has any right to look. “We're stuck here. We can spend every day we have left punishing her and it still won't change a single thing. We're rotting on this rock because that bitch lied, and hating her harder isn't going to build us a boat.”

Forgive me Father for failing. I couldn’t save my best friend or my son from this life of misery but I vow to you now, I will claim my redemption through that bitch and make her scream our names and beg for fucking mercy.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SNOW

I fight against the fucking chains and try to break free but it’s fucking useless. I’m never getting out of this shit without one of them helping me. That son of a bitch brought me in here and chained me to a fucking chair!

Literal chains, not a fucking metaphor. We’re on a fucking island and somehow these sons of bitches have access to chains and padlocks like there is some convenience store around here!

I quit moving when the three of them enter the room. There’s not a single piece of furniture in here except for the chair I’m sitting on. The window is covered in green moss and has cracks through it. The room looks like the big bad wolf could blow it down with one fucking puff of his breath.

I harden my features and glare at the masked fucks, if they think they are going to make me cry and beg for my life they have another fucking thing coming. I may have been raised in a castle and wear a crown, but I’m no weak ass bitch that cowers from a fight. I’m skilled and even had the Huntsman, that the evil bitch hired to try and take me out, train me.

I relax into my seat and feign being comfortable. I want them angry and filled with rage. A man who can’t control his emotions is a man who can be manipulated.

“I hope our palace is up to your standards,” the one on the right says, he’s the fucker who carried me in here. I bite back my growl and plaster a grateful smile on my face.

“Oh, these quarters are exceptional and I am ever so grateful for the stunning view this room offers of the beautiful island you call home.” All three of them snarl and it takes a lot of effort on my part not to smirk.

“Your mouth is going to get you in trouble⁠—”