Venom & Glory (Venom Trilogy Book 3)

by S Williams

  It’s massive, with a private terrace over looking the ocean too.

  I take a step closer, spotting a hot tub outside the terrace, a tray set up there with bread, fruits, and even a bottle of merlot. The bed is a California king, swathed in puffy white bedding and brown pillows, a thick white headboard matching the sheets.

  “I know it’s only two in the afternoon, but the fruit and merlot is for you. Please let me know if there is anything else I can get you, Patrona. The kitchen is fully stocked and there is even a bar in this home and by the pool. You can call me, or you can go out and help yourself to anything.” Emilio takes a step back. “You probably want to be left alone, so I will go to my room and let you settle in.” He picks up a black device on the TV stand. “Press the green button on here when you need me.”

  “Okay.” I nod. “Gracias, Emilio.”

  “Por supuesto, Patrona.” Of course, Patrona.

  He starts to turn, but I call for him quickly before he can get out the door.

  “Si, Patrona?”

  “Will…Jefe be here anytime soon?”

  Emilio studies my eyes, but then pulls his gaze away. “I’m not sure when Jefe will be arriving, Patrona, but you are safer here.”

  “Do you mean I’m safer away from him than with him?”

  His green eyes sparkle from the sun. All he gives is a curt nod, and then he’s gone, shutting the tall brown door behind him.

  I turn back around, walking to the hot tub, focused on the fruit and bread, but I don’t have the stomach to eat.

  Instead, I pick up the bottle of merlot and then grab the bottle opener, popping it and pouring it into the empty glass on the tray.

  There is only one glass, meaning I will probably be alone for quite sometime. I take a full sip of the merlot, and then place it down. Pulling my dress off, I toss it aside and then step into the hot tub, sinking into its warm oasis with just my panties and bra on.

  I press my back against the edge of the tub, pick up my half-empty glass, and I just…breathe.

  For the first time since this all began, I breathe, and then I let it all sink in.

  Draco won’t be here for a while. He sent me away, probably because he couldn’t stand the sight of me anymore. I know he won’t show up anytime soon—or probably at all. I’m safe here, yes, but I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do here by myself.

  This home is beautiful—gorgeous really. It’s everything and more, but without him around, I may as well be back in that cell, rotting away. Alone and afraid. Worried about what’s to come, and how to handle it.

  Tears sting my eyes, but I take a sip of wine to ignore the burn, looking at the ocean.

  I know Patanza said he loves me, but by now he has to hate me.

  I hate myself.

  I stole the happiness from Patanza—a happiness that seemed so bright and freeing. I snatched it away from her, and she’ll never forgive me for it.

  Because of me, Draco’s cousin and closest confidant is gone.

  Because of my stupidity and self-righteousness, everything is ruined.

  4

  GIANNA

  The hours spent here are long and exhausting.

  I’m waking up to an empty side of the bed.

  Cold. Vacant. I’m not used to it. Being without him terrifies me now.

  Breakfast isn’t served at a table, it’s brought to me by Emilio, who hardly says anything, only asks me if I need something or to call for him if I do. Patanza has been around, using most of her time sitting in the one spot that gives view of the city.

  On my second night here, I walk past and see her sitting in a lounge chair with her head hung low. At first, I can barely recognize her. She’s wearing black lounge clothes, her hair long, shiny and damp. It’s dark, and other than the lights sparkling from the pool, you can’t make out much but the city lights beyond the patio where she sits.

  I see her sitting there with her back facing the closed door, her hair like a curtain around her face, and I swear I see her shoulders shaking. If I’m not mistaken, she’s crying. My feet move, the urge to go out and talk to her high and demanding.

  But when she reaches up and swipes hard at her face, then stands and stalks away into the darkness, I stop before I can reach the door, realizing she only wants to be left alone.

  By the third day, I am a mess. I can hardly eat. Hardly sleep. I can’t get that image of Thiago out of my head to save my life. The way he had my back and protected me when we were in that tunnel—how he would have done anything to protect me because he knew how much I meant to Draco…it was too much. Too real.

  He gave his own life for me. For his cousin.

  “You need her more than me anyway.” His words haunt me, the tears lining my eyes, hot like fire. I roll over and somehow, after letting go of a river’s worth of tears, I fall asleep.

  The next morning, I walk out of the bedroom after taking a quick shower, and Emilio is in the living room, his back to me, talking quietly on his phone.

  “Si, Jefe. Ella esta bien.” She is okay.

  “Is that Draco?” I ask in Spanish, rushing in his direction.

  Emilio spins around, eyes stretched wide as he stares at me. I don’t even bother asking for the phone. Instead, I take it away, pressing the receiver to my ear.

  “Draco?” I call. “Draco!” There is no response.

  I lower the phone and look at the screen. The call has ended. He hung up.

  I glare up at Emilio. “Where is he? Is he on the way?”

  Emilio presses his lips with a slight shrug.

  “What did he want?”

  “He was just checking on you, Patrona.”

  “Why doesn’t he just come and check on me himself?” I snap, and I know I shouldn’t be angry with Emilio, the only man showing me respect right now, but I can’t help it. I feel like I’m on the brink of a mental breakdown.

  “He will talk to you when he feels like it,” Patanza says from behind me in her native language. I turn and look at her. Her face is pale, eyes dark and empty. She seems almost . . . lifeless. “Stop pressuring Emilio, when you know he can’t give you solid answers. Haven’t you caused enough fucking trouble?”

  “Patanza,” Emilio warns.

  But I don’t stick around long enough to hear what else she has to say. I return the phone to Emilio and walk back to my bedroom.

  I’m on edge for the rest of that day. By nightfall, I’m calling Emilio for a bottle of wine to help take the edge off. I down three glasses of red wine, eyes wet, heart pounding.

  I don’t know when I finally fall sleep, but when I wake up, it’s still dark, and the heavy smell of marijuana rolls past my nose. The door to the terrace is cracked open. I gasp, shooting up straight, staring through the glass.

  Dropping one foot on the marble floor, I tiptoe to the door, cautious, heart racing. I pause for a second when I hear a throat clear, deep and heavy. I look around for something to defend myself with, but there isn’t much here. Just the half empty bottle of wine and the silver tray. On top of the tray is a knife I used to cut my apples earlier.

  I grab it, pulling the door open and peeking around the corner.

  When I see the broad shoulders and chiseled jaw, my racing hearts works overtime. I immediately lower my guard, something I normally wouldn’t do around him, placing the knife down on the chair behind me.

  I can’t help but lower what’s left of my defensive walls.

  Draco is standing on the terrace with a joint pinched between his lips, overlooking the city of Cabos. The moonlight makes his skin look clear and smooth, highlighting the dark stubble on his jawline and around his mouth. He’s wearing an unbuttoned dress shirt, his hair a disheveled mess.

  I almost don’t go out. He looks calm, if only for now. Maybe I shouldn’t bother him. Give him his space until morning.

  I start to step away, but I bump into the side of the house, causing a thump.

  He looks over when he hears it and immediately reach
es for his gun, drawing and pointing it at me. I hold my hands in the air, and when he realizes it’s only me, he lowers it right away, sighing heavily as he tucks it back into the holster.

  “Sorry to scare you,” I whisper.

  “Nothing scares me,” he grumbles, pulling the joint from his lips. “It’s called watching your back.”

  I look him over. His eyes are hard, but deep in them I can see the pain. I see his agony, and I want to cry for him. I know he hasn’t dared shed a tear. He’s kept himself busy and distant for a reason.

  “Draco,” I call, stepping closer to him, cutting right to the chase. “I am so, so sorry. I swear, I didn’t—”

  “Just shut up, Gia,” he mutters, looking away. “There is nothing you can say that will help the situation we’re in. It happened, and it’s done. Time to move forward now.”

  “I just want to apologize,” I tell him, still cautious, but still moving closer to him.

  “Apologies are worthless. They don’t help or motivate me. They only piss me the fuck off.”

  My mouth clamps shut. I stop only a footstep away from him. He puts out the joint and bends over, placing it on the ground.

  “What took you so long to get here?” I ask.

  “Had work to do. Shit to handle.”

  “You killed someone?”

  “I’ve killed a lot of people.”

  I look down. He’s so cold, intentionally driving a wedge between us. It hurts knowing he doesn’t want to speak to me; that he probably doesn’t even want to be around me.

  “You told them I was safe here. How am I safer here?”

  “Because she doesn’t know where you are. It allows me to do what I need to do until I can get to her again.”

  “You haven’t seen her since—” My sentence cuts short. I’m afraid to say it around him. Saying it will make it real.

  He takes note of my hesitance, cocking a brow, fixing his gaze on me. “Since what? Since she killed my cousin?” His tone is harsh and unforgiving.

  I nod pathetically.

  “No, and she better be fucking glad I haven’t seen her, otherwise I’d gouge her fucking eyes out and then bury her alive.”

  The menacing chill in his voice makes the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. “What will you do to get to her?” I ask, voice low. “I want to help, Draco. This is my fault. I need to do something too, not just hide out here.”

  His head shakes from side to side, his face seeming much paler now. “I blame myself for ever sending him out there. I knew something was wrong—I could feel it deep in my gut when he didn’t answer the damn phone. He always answers for big deals. Always, but I ignored that churn in my gut and automatically assumed he was going against me.” His eyes flash up to meet mine. “But I bet that’s what you want, right? For me to blame myself. For me to put everything on my shoulders? Well, fuck that.” He points a stern finger at me. “You are to blame too, Gianna. You. If that no-armed fucker hadn’t been set free, they never would have found Thiago in the first place! He knew everything! He listened and watched for months, and you just let him go, like he was a fucking saint!” Nostrils flared, he takes a step back, going to the door. “I’m really starting to think I should have just killed you the same day I killed Trigger Toni. If I had, none of this shit would have ever happened.”

  His words are a solid punch in the gut—or maybe to the face. Either way, it knocks the breath right out of my lungs.

  He walks right past me before I can even stop him.

  5

  GIANNA

  He doesn’t sleep in the room with me.

  After last night—after what he said—how could he?

  It’s well past 8:00 a.m., and since he walked off last night, there has been nothing but silence.

  I push out of bed and walk to the door, hoping he’s still around. Stepping around the corner that leads to the dining room, I hear glasses clanking and forks scraping china. I enter the dining room, and am utterly surprised to see Mrs. Molina sitting there with a newspaper on the table.

  She’s reading the newspaper, a bowl of hot cereal and fruit in front her. It’s a much smaller table, only able to seat six. She hears me coming in and lowers her paper, smiling wide at me. From that smile alone, I’m assuming she doesn’t know what I’ve done…at least not yet. Draco is nowhere in sight.

  “Buenos días, cariño!” she sings, dropping and folding her paper. She sits up in her chair, smiling up at me. I take the seat across from her, warmth coursing through my bloodstream. She doesn’t know. She can’t know, otherwise she wouldn’t be smiling right now. “How are you?” she asks.

  “I’m great!” I try and sound positive and uplifted. I’m far from it.

  “Are you loving it here? You’ve been here longer than I have, right? I arrived around midnight last night.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I tell her.

  She smiles, and Emilio steps around the corner, coming from the kitchen. “What would you like this morning, Patrona?” he asks.

  “I’ll take what Mrs. Molina has,” I say, and he bobs his head. “Thanks, Emilio.” Mrs. Molina takes a sip of her apple juice. “Will Draco be eating with us too?”

  She shrugs. “I have no idea. It is not like him to miss breakfast, but he’s told me he has a lot of things to handle this morning, so he’ll probably be a little late. He told me you would be joining me though. If you couldn’t tell, I was waiting.” She winks.

  I smile a little and then twist my lips. We’re quiet for a moment. She takes a bite of her green apple. I grab a red Honey crisp from the bowl. “It’s not weird to be taken away from one home and put into another so quickly?”

  She waves a highly dismissive hand. “Oh, please. I am used to it. His father did it all the time. No one place is ever safe for long when you are a Molina. That mansion we were in was just our favorite one.” She looks around. “But this one is starting to grow on me, too. It’s…simple. And we don’t get much simplicity in our lives.”

  My upper lip twitches to form a small smile. Emilio returns with a hot bowl of cereal and places it in front of me. It smells delicious, like cinnamon and honey. “Enjoy, Patrona.”

  He takes off, eyeing Mrs. Molina briefly before stepping around the corner. Though I have no appetite, I dig into my food anyway, eating without really tasting it, while she reads more of her newspaper.

  A door shuts from a distance, and I hear slow and measured footsteps. When Draco steps around the corner, my heart goes mad, banging like drums, my pulse loud in my ears.

  He doesn’t even look at me as he walks around the table, gives his mother a kiss on the top of her head, and then takes the seat to the left of her, at the head of the table, of course.

  “Buenos días, Mamá,” he sighs.

  “Good morning, hijo.” She drops her spoon.

  Draco looks over at me. “Gianna.”

  “Morning,” I murmur.

  He looks away, at the entrance of the kitchen. Emilio appears with a bowl of cereal for him, too. This isn’t like the meals we had at the mansion—the multi-option, wholesome meals that I used to die for.

  This hot cereal is basic, simple. Just enough to get you through the morning. Now that I think about it, most of the meals I’ve had here are very simple—chicken with rice or potatoes. Breakfast would be waffles with fruit, or toast with eggs.

  “I think I will read by the pool today,” Mrs. Molina says after finishing up her food.

  “Go and enjoy yourself,” Draco mumbles before taking a bite of his meal.

  She nods, and Emilio steps up and grabs her bowl. “Would you like me to get anything for you while you’re by the pool, Mrs. Molina?” he asks in Spanish.

  “No, honey. I will be fine, but thank you.” She smiles at him, and then me, and then takes off, humming.

  When I can no longer hear her happy tune, Emilio leaves, and I look over at Draco. “You haven’t told her.”

  “Told her what?”

  “About Thiago.” />
  He looks at me with cold, dead eyes. No response.

  I sigh, my appetite completely gone now. “Maybe I should tell her.”

  “You won’t speak a fucking word of it,” he snarls at me, brows stitched.

  “She deserves to know. She loved Thiago.”

  “I know she did, and if she finds out why he died and what you did, she will fucking despise you. She is the only one who thinks you are an angel, and I want it to stay that way—not for my sake or yours—but for Lion’s. You need her to have your back, because if she doesn’t, you may just end up dead around here.” He shoves back in his chair, causing a screech on the hardwood floorboards. He stands up tall, glaring down at me, pointing a stern finger in my face. “You will not say a fucking word. She doesn’t need to know another family member of hers is dead. She doesn’t know we are under threat—not this severely—so keep your fucking mouth shut and stay out of her goddamn way.”

  He stalks away, and before I know it, a door slams, making the walls shake. I flinch when I hear it, eyes wet, throat thick with emotions I can’t stand feeling. I stare down at my uneaten food.

  My hands are fucking shaking, my heart still racing. My gut feels twisted into a thousand knots.

  No one here is on my side. No one but Mrs. Molina, and even I know that won’t last for long—not when she finds out what really went down.

  For the rest of the day and the next, Draco doesn’t say a word to me. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are set up, but only his mother is at the table. He doesn’t show, though I know he is around.

  Mrs. Molina makes excuses for him, saying he’s been very busy lately, but she has no fucking idea what is even going on.

  Mrs. Molina and I spend time together at the pool after several meals, but I don’t dare bring up Thiago or even Draco. Instead, I encourage her to talk about Los Cabos, this home, and even about what book she’s currently reading. Though she is engaging and lively, I find it hard to concentrate on what she’s saying. Every time she speaks, her voice becomes a hum, distant in the background.