Beautiful Venom: A Dark Hockey Romance (Vipers Book 1)

“Any news about Violet?”

I swerve the car in and out of traffic, driving as fast as I can without crashing the fucking thing.

I’ve been going like this for the past several hours, ever since I received the call from Samuel that made my worst nightmare come true.

“She’s in the dungeon.”

In the dungeon.

Dahlia.

In Grant’s fucking dungeon.

A place no one should ever be in—especially not Dahlia.

Not after what I gave up to keep her out of Grant’s claws.

That’s when the dooming realization hits me.

Uncle Kayden was right. Revealing my cards might have given Dahlia immunity for some time, but Grant will never let her survive.

Not after she’s proven to be my Achilles’ heel.

He’ll eliminate her just to maintain a hold on me.

He’s hurt her just to teach me a lesson.

I considered asking Jude and Preston to save her for me, to get as many of their guards as they could and just march in, but they and their guards don’t compare to the small army my father has on the estate. Besides, Grant would call their fathers and that would be the end of that.

The heavy breathing from the other end of the phone fills my car, and the shuffle of footsteps follows before Jude’s rough voice filters through. “I couldn’t locate Violet in any of our hospitals or safe houses. I’m done searching blindly, so I’m walking to my brother’s office and won’t leave until he gives me the information I need.”

My hand tightens around the steering wheel. “Julian can’t be threatened and you know that.”

“Not him, no. But his wife? That’s a different fucking story.”

“He doesn’t give a fuck about his wife.”

“If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have made her live in a goddamn gilded cage.”

“He got her expelled from the society, Jude.”

“That’s his idea of protection. I know because I’m having the same thoughts. Guess I’ll have to test the theory.”

“Don’t. It’s risky.”

“I have to take my chances.”

A mumble of voices follows, Jude ignoring his brother’s assistant and then shouting, “Everyone out!”

The shuffle of feet, murmurs, and then Julian’s clear voice. “You need to quit your punch-first-and-ask-questions-later habits. They’re a disgrace to the Callahan name.”

“I’m going to show you the actual disgrace, big bro.”

“Jude, don’t,” I say in a tight voice. “I didn’t mean it’s risky as in it might not work. It’s risky because it could work. Threatening Julian will only make him more antagonistic.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he spits out.

“Let me talk to him.”

“I can handle this.”

“No, you can’t. Pass Julian the phone. Do us both a favor and let me do the talking.”

There’s a low curse before his voice sounds far away. “It’s Kane. He wants to talk to you.”

I tap my finger on the steering wheel as Julian’s clear voice echoes in my car. “What can I do for you, Davenport?”

“The real question is, what else can you do to grow the Callahan empire?”

“Are we having a business talk?”

“Nothing that different from what you had with Grant.”

“You’re far behind, kid. Besides, I’m disappointed in you.”

“Disappointed?”

“You brought a liability into our midst. A little girl with several tricks up her sleeve and shady motivations that could sabotage our ways. You either allowed her to perform DNA tests on you and your teammates, or you weren’t aware, which is even worse.”

My fingers tighten until I’m sure I’ll break the steering wheel. I knew Julian was in the know about everything that goes on in the Callahan facilities, but I didn’t think he’d care about a nameless campus lab.

“Grant is correct,” Julian continues. “I had extremely high hopes for you, especially after watching your behind-the-scenes methodical modus operandi. However, you allowed a mere fucking girl to topple it all to the ground.”

“Not all.”

“Oh?”

“You think I’d hand Grant everything in my arsenal? That I’d remain defenseless? Me, of all people?”

“Good for you. However, I still have no interest in internal conflict. I have my own to take care of.”

“Then stay out, completely, and I promise, whatever the outcome, you won’t be a loser.” I pause. “You know Grant’s temper. You’re well aware of his failing business decisions lately, due to which he had to cut funding for your new experimental drug.”

“His failing business decisions don’t compare to your massive loss of judgment.”

“It’s not a loss of judgment. It’s part of a plan.”

“What plan?”

“Let Violet go. And we might discuss this further.”

“Good one. Unfortunately, however, Violet is a family issue now, as it affects my brother.”

“Let’s go outside,” Jude says from the other end. “We’ll fight it out.”

“I have no intention of throwing fists. What an uncultured motherfucker. It’s an embarrassment to call you my brother.” Julian sighs, then tells me, “If I see a manifestation of your plan, I might consider backing off. But that’s all I can offer. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Jude is going to punch me and I need to break his arm.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Fuck!” I hit the steering wheel but take a deep breath.

It’s useless to try to convince Julian with words anyway. If he wants action, then so be it.

An hour of reckless driving later, I arrive at my parents’ house and nearly hit the entrance.

The late-night air is suffocating. To think I had the best time of my life not twenty-four hours ago, and now I’m back to this absolute shithole is fucking revolting.

As soon as I get out, I spot a slim silhouette walking back and forth by the massive front door. Upon seeing me, Helena charges toward me.

Her night robe clings to her frail body and her eyes are sunken, dark circles surrounding them like bottomless pits.

“Kane, honey, don’t go in.”

I stop and stare down at her bony hand clutching my arm. “Let go, Mother.”

She adds another hand, digging her nude nails into my black jacket, shaking her head. “I heard Samuel call you. You shouldn’t have come back. You…shouldn’t be here.”

“I shouldn’t be here? Then where should I be? Hiding? Burying my head in the sand? Being you?”

“You don’t understand. If you go in there, he’ll torture you.”noveldrama

“Something I’m extremely familiar with, but she’s not, Mother!”

She flinches, her cheeks losing all color.

This is the first time I’ve raised my voice at her. I might have kept my distance from my mother, but I’ve treated her cordially, with respect, as expected of me.

Now, though? I turn around and grab her by her shoulders and shake her. Hard.

“She defended you, Helena! Even after she knew you stood by and watched while the man you chose to have a kid with tortured that kid. She said you must’ve been helpless. You must’ve tried to stop it but couldn’t. She said you’re mentally fragile and couldn’t handle this type of life, so you withdrew as a defense mechanism. She gave you the benefit of the doubt. She begged me to be kinder to you, to not forget and erase you. She asked if you and I could turn over a new leaf. I started seeing you from her perspective. Through her eyes. Because she lost her mother at a young age, she has these rosy concepts about mothers and affection, so I shouldn’t have listened to her warped logic. But I still came by, didn’t I? I still conformed to the benefit of the doubt she gave you. And now you’re asking me to let her be tortured and watch? I’m not you, Mother. Do you understand?”

Tears stream down her face as she trembles uncontrollably. “I just…I just want you to be safe. I hate for anything to happen to Dahlia either. She’s been the only color in my life lately, and I begged Grant to let her go, but you know he never listens to me. I don’t want her to be hurt, but I would hate losing you more.”

“You already lost me fifteen years ago, Mother.”

I let her go and push past her as I stride through the mansion, down the dim halls with the ugly dark-green wallpaper.

Throughout the years I’ve been walking these halls, I’ve only felt numbness and, lately, the consolation that this will soon come to an end.

But right now, my muscles are tense, my steps wide.

I’ve never rebelled against my father, and it wasn’t because I couldn’t. After I hit puberty, I became as big as he is and even more muscular. If I’d wanted to hit him, I would’ve.

But violence is not my style, and I refused to be molded into a copy of him.

So I connived behind closed doors. I gathered all the intel about his trusted executives and used it to turn those pigs against him. I actively sabotaged each of his new ventures, starting talks within the company and even Vencor.

I didn’t want to physically harm Grant. That wouldn’t have accomplished anything.

Seeing his empire crumble before his eyes, however? Witnessing the son he labeled a weakling take over?

That would break him.

Two of my father’s men stand guard in front of the dungeon’s metal door, buff, muscular, their gazes mean.

They’re part of the crew my father uses to do his dirty work. Some thugs who specialize in intimidation and breaking bones.

The bald one extends an arm. “No one is allowed in.”

“Step away. I won’t repeat myself.”

“Boss said no one—” I pull out my gun with the silencer and shoot him between the eyes.

His friend reaches for his weapon, but I shoot him in the face before he can act.

Blood splatters on my face, reddening my gaze.

They both fall to the ground with a thud, and I step over them as I sheath my gun.

The moment I open the door, everything comes to a halt. The place reeks of dampness and rot, the familiar stench of cold stone and blood curling into my nostrils.

But that isn’t what makes the world stop.

It’s Dahlia.

The white light casts a harsh shadow on her face as she hangs from the ceiling, her body limp, dripping wet clothes clinging to her discolored skin.

Water pools beneath her feet, reflecting the light like shattered glass. Her features are lifeless, devoid of the cheerful and defiant energy she wears like a badge of honor.

Her soaking hair is plastered to her skin. Blood gushes from where the chains dig into her flesh, deep-red rivers trickling down her arms, mixing with the water that drips from her clothes.

Her eyes are clamped shut and she’s shaking.

Every breath she takes is a thin cloud of mist that barely escapes her lips before dissolving.

The sour tang of sweat and blood sharpens and fills my senses as I spot Grant standing in front of her, tall, erect, with that sadistic gleam in his eyes as he approaches Dahlia with a whip in hand. She flinches as he gets closer, a tremor quaking her entire body.

Something inside me snaps.

All the torture I’ve lived through pales compared to this. No matter how brutal they were, how painful it got, I was born into this. It’s what was expected of me.

Dahlia is fucking different.

Grant’s third lackey approaches me. “You’re not supposed to be here⁠—”

I shoot him in the head and bypass him.

My father finally turns in my direction. He has a bandage on his chin that, according to Samuel, is due to a cut he had when he came back, and he was cursing Dahlia for it.

That made me so fucking proud.

He might have kidnapped her, but my wildflower didn’t leave without a fight.

My father looks at his dead man and narrows his eyes on me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Kane?”

I let the gun rest at my side. “You gave me your word. You said you wouldn’t touch her.”

“That was before I learned how much you actually gave up for this nameless bitch. She’s a liability that needs to be taken care of.”

Trembling uncontrollably, Dahlia flutters her eyes open. Their color flickers between brown and yellow as she shakes her head and mouths, “Go, Kane. Please.”

That fucking girl thinks she can protect me, even though she’s hanging from the fucking ceiling.

What the actual fuck?

I burst out laughing, holding the gun flat against my temple.

It hits me then. Seems that aside from the chains my father wrapped around my wrists, I subconsciously shackled myself, too.

I believed his hypocritical speech about ‘the Davenport bond’. Somehow, even though I grew taller and much stronger than him, I never considered hurting him physically like he hurt me.

Because, at some point, I believed his words—that I was a defect he was fixing—and didn’t consider his punishment wrong. When I was younger, I even blamed myself for being born a weakling and not meeting his expectations.

Jude and Preston didn’t need to be locked up in their fathers’ basements to be cold-blooded; why wasn’t I the same?

Why wasn’t I…wrong?

The answer is, I’m not the one built wrong. He is.

He’s the one who twisted me the fuck up just to fit the mold that suits his vision.

And I still thought I couldn’t hurt him, because he spawned me.

But now, the fog has lifted.

The metaphorical rusty chains that I’ve clasped around my own wrists since I was a kid break, and I laugh harder.

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?” Grant asks.

“On the contrary. I’ve never seen things so clearly.” I let out a sigh. “You know, I figured out that becoming like you is the ultimate goal. I had to be so ruthless, so detached and cold, nothing would faze me. Not personal relationships, not people I spent my whole life with. Not even my own mother. Connections are only formed for mutual gain. Being emotionless was the true answer to any problem. Treating everyone like pawns would get me to the top faster and more efficiently.”

“That is correct.”

“Yes. But you see, Father, you’re in my way.”

He faces me, his shoulders bunching. “Me?”

“Yes. I want the Davenport throne, so I can do things the way I see fit and fix your fuckups. You’re a hindrance, preventing my progress.”

“The Davenport throne?” He scoffs. “Don’t make me laugh. You gave it up for this nobody. Do you believe I’ll ever let you ascend it in your state?”

“Let me?” I raise my hand, the gun steady, my finger relaxed. “I don’t need you to let me.”

“You’ll kill me?” He snarls. “For her?”

“For me. Messing with her was only the last straw.”

He curses and swings his hand in Dahlia’s direction, to hit or kill her, I don’t know.

It doesn’t reach her anyway, because I pull the trigger.

The bullet hits the back of his head.

I don’t see his face as he falls, his body hitting the ground.

Motionless.

Finally…silent.

I wait for the feelings of guilt. For the conflict. For the slightest hint of remorse.

Nothing.

Huh.

I guess he really brought me up well.

“Kane…” a small voice whispers in the midst of the blood-soaked silence.

So small and calming.

So small and…sad.

I look up and freeze. Dahlia looks at me with tears streaming down her cheeks, dripping to her collarbone.

Right. She saw me do that unsightly thing.

She must think I’m a true monster now.

Her chin trembles and she whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

And then her head falls forward and she passes out.