Venom & Glory (Venom Trilogy Book 3)

by S Williams

  She doesn’t answer, but her eyes scream it all.

  She hates me. She hates me so much. She’s envious—wishes she was in my place so badly. This is torture for her, way worse than any kind of rape or punch or kick.

  Hearing this, and the other things I have to say, is what will ruin her.

  “Can I tell you a secret,” I whisper, leaning over the table a bit more. “It’s something I haven’t even told Jefe yet.” I run my finger over the lion’s mane on my gun. “I haven’t been feeling too well the past few mornings. It’s been maybe a week and a half now of this nauseous feeling, and the constant headaches that come in the mornings and late at night. It’s no coincidence. I knew what was happening to me before I even tested. I had one of his men buy and bring me a pregnancy test in secrecy, right before we found you. His name was Emilio. I liked him a lot. He was a good person, and you killed him.”

  Her glistening eyes are wider now. She’s no longer chewing. Her face is pale. Eyes desperate and empty at the same time.

  “I know you think it can’t get any worse than me being his queen, his woman, but it does for you. Because his bloodline will continue, and it will continue through me. A Molina-Nicotera baby. The Jefe’s baby.” I sit back. “Even now, I’m not feeling the best, but I’ve been pushing through the nausea. Luckily, it’s not too severe. No vomiting—yet.” I twist my lips, my eyes lowering to her plate. “I don’t know. I thought I would be…devastated or scared. I mean, I was scared of the idea of a baby at first—when we hadn’t caught you. But we have you now, and now that we do, well…I feel a little better. I don’t feel so bad about being pregnant with his baby. In fact, I’m kind of excited about it. Like I said, he doesn’t know yet. I want to tell him when all of this is over. When you are officially gone, and his head is a little clearer.”

  She slams her empty fist on the table, dropping the plastic spork on the ground. Guillermo takes a big step forward, pressing the gun to the back of her head, but I hold my hand up, letting him know it’s fine. He doesn’t ease up.

  “You think you’re getting anywhere by doing this? Telling me this? I’ve been through worse—heard so much that is way worse than this, sweetie. What you say doesn’t deter me. No one gives a damn about you or your baby. I hope that baby dies in your womb, and you bleed to death,” she growls through her teeth. “Now if you’re going to kill me, just kill me already and get it over with.” Her voice is thick. She’s so close to breaking down. She still wants to be strong.

  I almost envy how strong she’s trying to be right now. I remember doing something similar—trying to push through the pain and the torture. Trying to see the lighter side of things.

  “Oh, you think I’m going to kill you?” I laugh, folding my hands in my lap. Her eyebrows dip with my outburst.

  A door slams closed and footsteps march down the hallway, measured, heavy. She glances over her shoulder, eyelashes damp.

  When he appears at the door, brows knitted, wearing all black with his fists clenched, I look at her and grin.

  “I was just warming you up for the real deal, sweetie,” I murmur. “Him.”

  47

  DRACO

  I have been waiting for this moment for some time now.

  Gianna is long gone. I sent her to her room to shower and get some rest. I know she won’t sleep. She’ll wait up until I return.

  She told me to take my time, so I will.

  I have my guards drag Hernandez up to the mansion, down the corridor, the marble steps, and to one of the bedrooms near my galería.

  There is nothing in this room but a full-sized bed with white sheets, maroon walls, and palm trees in front of the window.

  One of my guard’s shoves her forward and she falls on her knees, yelping.

  She struggles to get up, so I yank her up by the hair, dragging her to the bathroom only a few steps away.

  “Let go of me!” she screams.

  I force her down in the chair placed in the middle of the bathroom and she breathes raggedly, looking up at me.

  “I hate you!” she roars and then spits at my feet. “You think you’re something? Let me tell you right now, Draco, you are nothing. You never have been anything! You’re not important! I’m not afraid of you!”

  I lift my chin. “Is that so?”

  She swallows hard, her eyes focused on me, trying to catch my eyes.

  I walk around the chair, stepping behind her, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She doesn’t take her eyes off me.

  “I’ve thought of all the possible ways to kill you,” I murmur. “I couldn’t decide on what I wanted more. To torture you, drag it out, and waste my time. Or to make it quick and simple, the same way you did my cousin.” I slip a pair of gloves on both hands. “After letting Gianna toy with you a bit, I finally figured out the perfect solution.”

  I pull a pocketknife with a black handle out of my back pocket, studying the handle with my father’s initials on it.

  I then lower my arm and yank her up, wrapping my arm around her midsection, holding her body close to mine, and inhaling the filthy scent of despair, terror, and greed.

  “You were always trash to me, Yessica. You know that? I never cared about you. You were just an easy fuck, fun to punish, and nothing more.” I grip her tight, squeezing her body with one arm, the cold, hard pocketknife in my right hand.

  “That’s a lie. You love me. I know you do,” she pants. She’s working harder to breathe.

  “You think so?”

  “Yes. You always fucked me like you loved me,” she answers, confident. Too fucking bold.

  “Do you feel breathless?” I ask.

  She frowns at the reflection.

  “Do you like my body on yours?”

  When I ask that, she bobs her head.

  “Speak,” I demand.

  She tries too, but she’s unable. Words try to spill out, but they’re stuck. All I hear are moans and whimpers.

  Her eyes get bigger and soon, her body goes limp in my arms. Her head falls back, but her eyes are still on my reflection.

  “Do you know what’s happening to you right now?” I run my fingers down her arms, caressing her flushed skin. She watches my hand, like she loves it, like it’s all she’s ever wanted. My touch. Me. “You are paralyzed, but you can feel every single thing I do to you. Your nerves are just fine, and your eyes see all, but everything else inside you has completely shut down.” Her chin wobbles.

  “There are these flowers that I am so fascinated with called Death by Indigo. At first I hated them and what they could have done to me, but they intrigued me later on because they made a point—had a purpose. Because they are just as dangerous as I am. That meal you ate,” I whisper in her ear, grinning, “had the ground powder of that poisonous flower all over it. You were so hungry you couldn’t even taste it, could you?”

  She tries to speak—to move. She’s frozen.

  “You know something?” I clutch the handle of my knife again. “You were wrong about what you said before.” I bring the knife up to her throat, looking at her reflection through the mirror, deep into her eyes. “When I fucked you, I fucked you like I hated you, because I will always fucking hate you. As soon as I end you, it will be like you never even existed, and I’ll be living my life the same as before. The Jefe. The deadliest, most powerful motherfucker in the world.”

  After my final words are laid out, I slide the thin blade of the knife across the middle of her throat, slicing deep. My teeth grit as I spin her around, forcing her to look me in the eyes.

  Her arms fidget like she’s trying to reach up and grab for her throat, but I push her up against the counter, dropping the knife and wrapping my hands around her neck.

  My thumbs press into the slit, squeezing, forcing the blood to spill faster. It cascades, spilling on her chest and on my shirt.

  “I never loved you,” I murmur in her ear, “but I will always love her. She is mi reina—my future—and you can rot and sulk in hell knowing t
hat.”

  Blood gushes out of her mouth, and she chokes on the thick, dark red flood leaving her body, trying to move, begging for mercy with her eyes alone.

  But there is no mercy.

  This is for Thiago.

  This is for Emilio.

  This is for Gianna.

  This is my chance to finally be fucking free.

  When her eyelids flutter and her gags and sputters around the blood soften, I let her go and step away. She lands on her knees and falls forward, her face slamming into the hard marble floor. I stare down at her, watching the blood pour from her nose and mouth.

  It pools on my floor, blending in with her flaming red hair.

  I don’t stop staring—don’t make a fucking move—until I see the last breath bubble its way out of her motherfucking body.

  When I know she’s dead, I go to the counter and grab the wooden box on top of it. My winner’s box, as my father would call it, delivered right to this room, like I ordered.

  Every time I know I’ve won, I open it and take a prize.

  I pull out a joint and my favorite gold zippo lighter, staining both with her blood. Pressing my back into the edge of the counter, her blood a puddle at my feet, I strike a spark from the lighter and take a pull from the joint, inhaling deep, letting the buzz cleanse my soul—letting it renew and restore me. I smoke the whole thing, not giving a damn about the mess on my floor.

  As I take the final pull, I push off the counter, looking at the dead puta one last time and then smirking as I walk away.

  I told that bitch I would kill her.

  She should have fucking listened.

  48

  GIANNA

  The door to his bedroom swings open, and he walks in, soiled in blood.

  I don’t ask questions, even though that was much quicker than I thought it would be. Instead, I climb off the bed and walk to the shower to start it.

  He comes into the bathroom and starts to unbutton his pants. When the water is warm enough, I walk over to help him, lightly pushing his hands away and pulling his shirt over his head. I reach down, unbuckling his belt next and then unbuttoning his pants.

  Tossing it all on the floor, he stands before me completely naked, his cock thick, hanging between his legs, and I slip out of my dress, taking his hand and leading the way to the shower.

  No words are spoken as we step beneath the stream.

  I look up at him as water pours over his head. His eyes squeeze tight as the blood rushes down the drain.

  When it’s all gone, he presses himself against me, cupping my ass in hand and bringing his head down. His lips press on my cheek and then my jawline.

  I cup his face, my other hand wrapping around the back of his neck as I turn my head, getting our lips to connect.

  With this act alone, he picks me up in his arms, and I link my legs around his waist. With his teeth clamping my bottom lip, he presses my back on the shower wall and delivers a hard, powerful thrust deep inside me.

  It’s tender and full, and my moan is louder than it probably should be, but I don’t care. He sucks on my bottom lip and then drops his head to lick the water away from my skin before kissing me all over my neck.

  God, it feels good.

  He feels so good inside me.

  “Fuck, I love you, Gianna,” he rasps, warm water running over his full lips as he brings his head up and locks eyes with me. “So fucking much.” His hips are still drilling upward, filling me up. He groans, hard and heavy as he drops his forehead on my shoulder. A wild growl fills the space of the shower, and he stills inside me, panting heavier, still cupping me in his large hands.

  My fingers thread through the hair at the nape of his neck. We stay like this for a moment, breathing. Sighing. Relieved. I rest my cheek on his shoulder with a sigh.

  We finish washing up, and when we’re out, we put on robes and walk back to the bedroom. I linger by the bathroom door, twisting my fingers.

  Before he can sit down on the bed I call his name.

  He looks over his shoulder at me. “Si, Gianna?”

  “I have something to tell you,” I whisper, and suddenly my heart is pounding, but only because I don’t know how he’ll react.

  He turns fully, eyes serious and focused. Either I’ve paled and now look like a ghost, or he’s actually seeing one because he asks in an urgent tone, “What is it?”

  “I… ” My mouth clamps shut, my eyes burning now. “I found out a few days ago that I’m…pregnant.”

  His eyebrows stitch together, and he stops moving all together. With a deep frown, he asks, “How do you know this?”

  “I haven’t been feeling well or like myself the past few days. When I came back to Mexico, I asked Emilio to buy me a test, and I took it the night you finally arrived in Puerto Vallarta—after we talked. It was positive. I still have the test—it’s in my bag if you want to see it.”

  His throat bobs, his head dropping. He focuses on the floor for a brief moment, and then looks back up at me. “Pregnant…”

  “Yes,” I whisper. I bite back the tears. The rims of my eyes sting.

  He sits down on the edge of the bed anyway, still watching me. He looks at my flat belly, watches as I run a hand over it, and then releases a heavy breath. “Come here,” he exhales.

  I go to him, stepping between his legs and wrapping my arms around the back of his neck.

  “You want to carry my baby—even after all of this?” he whispers.

  I nod without even thinking about it. How stupid of me. He doesn’t want this. Why would he want this right now?

  “Yes,” I answer, and I can’t fight it anymore. The tears fall on their own.

  “No, Gianna. Don’t cry. This…it’s good news to me. Great, actually.”

  “It is?” I’m surprised to hear that.

  “Yes.” He shifts a little, holding my waist. “The only thing that concerns me about this is you. Are you happy with this? With me? And why the hell did you go after Yessica when you knew you were pregnant? You could have risked your life and lost the baby—”

  “Draco, I did what I had to do so that our baby could have a living, breathing father. I refused to let her get away. We needed her gone so we can have a life together.”

  His mouth clamps shut, a hard sigh leaving him. I sit on his lap, squeezing him tight around the shoulders and then leaning back to look him in the eyes. “I don’t think I’m too far along, anyway. Maybe a month or so. Juanita checked me. The baby is fine.” I inhale deep and long, before letting it go. “Nicoteras love hard, just like Molinas do.” I drop my hand, entwining our fingers. “And when I say I love you, I mean it. I don’t want to be with anyone else but you, Draco. And I have no doubt, whether it’s a boy or a girl, that he or she will be our little warrior.”

  “The risks—there is always someone after me, Gia. The baby will be in danger his or her entire life, and I won’t—”

  I cut him off before he can even finish, pressing a finger to his lips. “We will always, always be in danger. Even before all of this, my life was easily on the line. I was a mafia leader’s daughter, for fuck’s sake. I’m not going to let the threats of this world stop me from being happy and living my life. Yes, I’ll be worried, and yes, I’ll have to watch my back even more now. But what parent doesn’t? I will do my best to protect this baby—our baby. I will be there for my child as much as I can. I will prepare our baby for the best of times and the worst.”

  He drops his head, like he’s ashamed or something now. “I only want you safe.”

  “I will be fine.”

  He picks his head up, gripping my chin between his fingers. “If something happens to you—”

  “Then you’ll set the world on fire for me. I know. Trust me, I know.” I laugh just as he does. After laying a soft kiss on his cheek, I rest my head on his shoulder. “It will be fine. I promise.”

  “Well, this news settles my internal debate. I’m stepping down,” he declares. “Getting out of the heavy shit.
I wont be this cartel’s only leader anymore.”

  “What will you do?” I ask.

  “I’ve spoken to Clark. He wants to take it on, with Patanza. They’ve agreed to do it together. Run the Molina-Nicotera Cartel.”

  I lift my head. “Yeah? Is that what you really want? To hand over everything you and your family have worked so hard for, just like that?”

  “I’m doing what’s best for us—for my future.” He releases a long, weary breath. “It’s time for me to retire—lay low for a while. Be a part of an actual family. Live life. My mother has wanted this for me for years. There is someone I trust handling it—Patanza won’t tarnish the name of my cartel—so I’ll do it. For you.” He runs his palm over my belly. “For my baby.”

  He grabs my waist and twists me around, lightly placing my back on the bed. “We can get away, just you and me…until the baby arrives.”

  “Where?” I ask, smiling up at him.

  “I’ll have it figured out as soon as we get through tomorrow. First, we’ll have to do a proper burial for Thiago and Emilio. My mother is flying here in the morning with Thiago’s skull.”

  I frown. “His skull?”

  “Yes. That bitch Yessica saved it, tried to make a statement with it during a set-up—almost killed me.” I frown, sitting up a little but he presses a hand on my shoulder, relaxing me again. “There’s a lot I need to fill you in on, huh?”

  I laugh. “Yeah. A lot seemed to happen while I was away.” I stroke his chin. “Good thing she’s gone.”

  He drops his head, kissing the crook of my neck, making a swarm of butterflies tumble in the pit of my belly now. “Good thing indeed, Patrona.”

  The burial the next day is heartbreaking.

  Everyone is dressed in all black for it, clean. No hats or guns are allowed, to pay our respects.

  After Draco kisses the skull and then places it in the pit with Emilio’s body, he steps back with a nod and Diego starts shoveling the dirt on top of them.