Page 149 of Lovely Venom

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” I murmur. “I don’t really feel worthy, but I’m grateful to have another little piece of him.”

“You are worthy,” she answers softly. “You always have been.”

I let out an agonized breath as I squeeze the pillow tighter, realizing that’s probably the first time I’ve ever actually heard those words.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” Mariella says. “And I get it now.”

I force myself to meet her gaze, afraid of what I might see there.

“You’ve always been so secretive,” she observes. “I never asked because it wasn’t my place, but it didn’t make sense that Ares sent you to me that night. They have their own doctor, so I knew he was hiding something. I guess you weren’t just some woman they picked up off the street.”

“No, I wasn’t,” I admit.

That acknowledgement blankets the room in silence as we both process what it means for our friendship.

“Do you hate me?” I ask finally.

“I could never,” she assures me. “If there’s anyone who understands what it’s like to cross enemy lines, it’s me. When I was sneaking around with Ares, I was convinced my entire family would disown me if they found out. But by the time they did, I think they just felt sorry for me.”

“The uncertainty has been slowly killing me,” I confess.

“Well, I can’t speak for everyone, because I don’t know how they’ll feel about it. But I can promise you that I won’t tell anyone.”

“Really?” I blink at her.

“It’s not my secret to tell.” She shrugs. “I’ve known you for six years, Chantel. I’ve seen you at your lowest, and while I know that most of what Ares does is an elaborate scheme, I trust you aren’t part of that.”

“I’m not,” I swear. “And I don’t know why he did what he did today.”

“He’s definitely up to something,” she agrees. “He doesn’t show his hand without a purpose.”

I feel like she has a suspicion about what he’s planning, but my head hurts too much to think about it. Mariella seems to understand that, because neither of us has really slept.

“You should try to rest.” She gets up. “Cristian would want you to take care of yourself.”

“Do you think he’s coming back?” I whisper.

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “But if there’s anyone who can do it, it’s him.”

I nod, and she turns to leave, but pauses in the doorway.

“There was one thing I forgot to mention about that raven in the lighthouse,” she says.

“What was it?”

“Cristian left the door open so the bird could decide when it was ready to fly.”

A hollow carves its way through my chest as I recall what he said to me after he revealed himself.

You weren’t ready then.

“I think he left the door open for you too,” Mariella croaks. “Just in case you ever found your way back.”

30

CHANTEL

At the thirty-sixth hour, I fall into a restless sleep, dreaming about ravens and a man with eyes as deep as the darkest ocean.