Page 110 of Venomous Throne

I broke eye contact first.

There was no umbrella in any closet.

“Screw it,” I muttered. I would deal with rain if it happened.

Sticky heat clung to my skin as soon as I stepped outside. Sunlight shimmered off puddles in the mud ruts below; mosquitoes had already launched their breakfast sorties against my ankles. The trees loomed close on all sides. The woods were so alive I could almost see them breathe. My heart slowed, justfor a second, as I took it in. This impossible bubble of green where no one could track me down.

There was peace here, too, and I hated to admit that part.

The tire tracks were simple enough to follow. Two ribbons of churned mud wound toward the highway and civilization beyond. Birdsong piped overhead. Chipmunks zipped along fallen logs with more grace than seemed possible for such manic little bodies. My boots made soft squelching noises as I walked, sack thumping gently against my thigh.

Early on, there had been fear—of bears, maybe, or meth-head squatters plotting to rob or rape—but by now those anxieties felt thin compared to what gnawed at me from the inside out. The idea that I’d been widowed a second time was too intolerable to bear.

“You have to be alive,” I insisted, fisting my hands at my sides. “So I can kill you myself for abandoning me.” Forscaringme.

A half mile passed before anything changed. The sun was hot now, pulling sweat from my collarbones down into every seam of clothing. I kept pace by counting breaths and heartbeats—one hundred four, one hundred five—instead of replaying fragments of conversations with Jaxon over and over.

I missed him so much that sometimes the ache became physical. It was an actual knot under my left rib that throbbed if I hunched forward too far.

“I problem solve.”

What exactly did that mean? I was scared to ask, but I had a sneaking suspicion I knew. He wasn’t built like other men. Didn’t act like them either. The silent way he whispered about, his sheer strength and power, and that lethal violence, narrowed down the possibilities.

He told me he wasn’t my hero.

But if a mafia princess was to ascend the throne and take the crown, I didn’t need a hero. I needed a devil.

An audible pop—a sharp crack like billiard balls colliding somewhere deep in the trees—broke the spell.

Every muscle tensed instantly. At first my mind conjured up all plausible explanations. Falling branch? Deer stepping wrong? Maybe even Jaxon returning at last with some elaborate tale?

But every cell in my body warned otherwise.

I stopped mid-stride and scanned everything around me. To the left side, the undergrowth was heavy with ferns chest-high. The right side sloped steeply toward a marshy clearing where dragonflies hovered above still water. Ahead, more mud tracks curved out of sight behind fallen timber.

No movement, yet somehow everything felt alert. The very trees seemed to listen. Small animals were silent. The birds quit their song mid-chorus.

The next noise was closer. A low growl so deep it thrummed through the ground instead of the air.

My grip spasmed on the sack’s canvas handles. It took genuine effort to unclench my throat enough to breathe.

Oh, Santa Caterina!

Instinct overruled logic when another growl sounded even closer behind me. With zero hesitation, I bolted sideways off the path into dense undergrowth.

Every inch forward was chaos. Brambles snatched at jeans. Branches whipped my face and arms. Roots slick with moss tried to trip up each step.

I ran, blind but desperate, lungs heaving with exertion and terror.

Behind me came crashing sounds—louder now—definitely something big giving chase through the brush.

No time for plans except go, go,gowherever my legs would take me.

Panic can sharpen senses or reduce them to static. For me, it was both: Hyper-clear vision tunneled on patches of sunlight ahead while my ears drowned out everything but the noises of pursuit behind.

Sweat burned the cuts on my forearms; wind hissed past my ears as if cheering on both hunter and prey equally.

Twice, my boot snagged on roots, but momentum saved my balance—