Sins Of Her Venom
Chapter 52: She Ran

Chapter 52: She Ran

-Kathrine Andrews: (Song of the Chapter: Hunted by Isabel Larisa)

The next morning, I woke up before the sun had fully risen, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. The silence was thick—too thick.

For a moment, I lay still, staring at the ceiling, trying to push away the lingering weight of last night.

Alex in my room. Glyndon sitting there, silent, looking at me.

Like she cared.

Like I was the only that exists in her world.

I let out a slow breath, forcing the thought away as I sat up, pushing the blankets off me.

I wasn’t going to think about her. Not today.

But the second I shifted, the bed creaked, and I heard movement from the other side of the room.

I turned my head and found Glyndon awake, sitting up with her back against the headboard, her messy short hair falling over her face.

She was already staring at me.

"Where were you last night?" she asked, voice rough from sleep, I’m pretty sure she already knows where I was and only wants to find a reason to talk to me.

I raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t know you cared."

Her jaw tightened.

I smirked, standing up and stretching, pretending I didn’t notice the way her eyes flickered down my body for half a second before snapping away.

"Because I don’t," she muttered, voice lower now, but I caught it.

"Then why are you asking?"

She didn’t answer.

I walked toward my suitcase, grabbing my clothes for the day. I could feel her watching me, the tension thick enough to suffocate the whole damn room.

"Did you have fun with those two girls?" Her voice was sharp now, cutting through the silence.

What is she even talking about? I’m pretty sure she knows I was with Brandon.

Unless she thinks I have a thing with Lily and Emma.

I froze for half a second before turning around slowly, my fingers gripping the fabric of my shirt.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Those two girls from the Hockey rink."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Are you seriously asking me that right now?"

She didn’t laugh.

Her lips pressed together, her hands gripping the blanket in her lap.

"You spent the whole day with them," she said, her voice quieter this time, but there was an edge to it.

I stared at her, trying to figure out what the hell she wanted from me.

"You spend time with your boyfriend all the time," I said. "What’s your problem?"

She clenched her jaw. "It’s different."

"How?"

Her throat bobbed like she was struggling to find the words. But she didn’t say anything.

I scoffed, shaking my head.

"Whatever, Glyndon." I grabbed my clothes and turned toward the bathroom.

"Running away again?"

I stopped in my tracks. Slowly, I turned back to face her.

"You love doing that, don’t you?" she continued, tilting her head, her voice mocking now. "Disappearing whenever things get uncomfortable. Acting like nothing matters to you."

I stepped closer, the heat in my chest turning into something sharp.

"And you love pretending you hate me," I shot back.

Something flickered in her expression—something dark and conflicted—but she masked it quickly.

"I do hate you," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

I smirked.

"Then stop caring where I go or whom I fuck."

She didn’t say anything after that.

Neither did I.

The silence stretched between us, heavy and charged, and for a moment, I swore she was about to say something else.

But I didn’t wait for it.

I turned and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

The tension between us didn’t fade. If anything, it grew.

——-

I spent the rest of the morning avoiding Glyndon, but it was impossible not to feel her presence. Every time I passed her in the hotel hallways, every time I caught a glimpse of her at breakfast, I could feel her eyes on me.

Like she was watching. Waiting.

For what?

I didn’t know.

—

By midday, the teachers gathered all the students in the lobby, getting us ready for another scheduled activity. Sightseeing. Some historical museums and then free time to explore before dinner.

I wasn’t paying much attention, more focused on the way my friends had started giving me weird looks.

"Okay, what’s going on with you?" Michael nudged me as we stood near the entrance, waiting for the headcount to finish.

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Brandon raised an eyebrow. "You’ve been acting weird all morning. Like you are uncomfortable."

"I haven’t."

"Yes, you have," Emma cut in. "You’ve been in a bad mood since we left the rooms, and you keep glaring at—"

She trailed off, but I already knew where this was going.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to turn my head.

I knew exactly who was standing across the room.

Glyndon.

She was with Alex, and the rest of her group, standing a few feet away.

And she was looking at me because Michael turned his head and immediately raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, is it just me, or is Glyndon staring at you?"

I huffed a laugh. "You guys are imagining things."

"No, we’re not," Lily said, voice lower now. "She’s looking this way right now."

I ignored it, shoving my hands into my pockets.

It didn’t matter.

She didn’t matter.

But then I made the mistake of glancing up—and sure enough, my eyes met hers.

For a split second, neither of us moved.

I expected her to look away first.

She didn’t.

And for some reason, I couldn’t either.

The world around us blurred, the chatter of students fading into nothing.

She was still watching me, her gaze sharp, heated, almost challenging.

Like she was daring me to say something.

I wouldn’t.

I refused.

So I broke the stare, turning back to my friends as if nothing had happened.

Brandon muttered, "Yeah, okay. You’re lying. You said you were toying with her, why does this feel serious?"

I rolled my eyes. "Drop it."

Emma smirked, crossing her arms. "Fine. But you know who’s not dropping it?"

She tilted her head toward Glyndon’s group.

I followed her gaze just in time to see Alex’s arm wrap around Glyndon’s waist, pulling her closer.

And the look on his face?

Suspicious.

Because he had noticed.

His girlfriend was looking at me a little too much.

The tension only got worse after that.

We made our way through the streets of Paris, following the teachers toward the museum, but I could feel her.

Even when I wasn’t looking, I felt her.

Every time I turned a corner. Every time I slowed my pace. Every time I laughed at something one of my friends said.

Her eyes were on me. I felt almost stalked.

She was... Watching.

Tracking.

Like she was waiting for me to acknowledge her.

I didn’t.

Not when we entered the museum, not when the guide started talking, not when my friends whispered to me about some painting we were supposed to care about.

But my patience wasn’t infinite.

At one point, I wandered toward the back of the group, needing space. The museum was crowded, students all around, but for a moment, I had a pocket of silence.

Until she stepped into it.

"Kathrine."

My shoulders stiffened.

I closed my eyes for half a second before turning around.

Glyndon was standing there, her expression unreadable, but there was something in her gaze. Something I recognized.

Something I refused to name.

"You need something?" I asked, keeping my voice flat.

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out right away.

I tilted my head. "No? Then why are you here?"

Her jaw tightened.

"You’ve been ignoring me," she muttered.

I let out a sharp laugh. "Right. Because we were so close before."

She took a step closer. Too close.

"You know what I mean."

I did.

But I wasn’t about to let her have the upper hand.

I smirked, tilting my head. "Isn’t your boyfriend waiting for you? Shouldn’t you be with him instead of stalking the school lesbian?"

Her breath hitched, and something flickered in her expression—anger, frustration, something darker.

"Shut up," she whispered.

I leaned in slightly, my smirk widening. "Make me. Come on kiss me like you did before."

Her hands curled into fists at her sides, and for a second, I thought—

But then, just as quickly as the moment came, she pulled back.

Her mask snapped back into place.

She scoffed, shaking her head. "You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you?"

"Smarter than you," I shot back.

Her nostrils flared, and for the first time, she looked like she hated me.

Good.

Hating me was easier, wasn’t it?

She turned on her heel without another word, storming off toward her group.

And the second she reached them, Alex grabbed her hand, pulling her in like she belonged there.

But the thing was—

She didn’t look at him.

Not once.

She only looked back at me.

The rest of the museum tour dragged on, but I wasn’t listening.

Ryan and Michael were arguing about some Renaissance painting, Brandon was just smiling and looking at his boyfriend’s face with hearts in his eyes, Emma was completely absorbed in her sketchbook, and Lily kept sneaking glances at some French guy she’d been eyeing since we got here, Ethan was holding Lily back from jumping the guy to lick him.

But me?

I was hyper-aware of her.

Of the way Glyndon stayed on the opposite side of the group, pretending she wasn’t looking at me. Of how, whenever I moved, she adjusted too. Of how, every time I laughed at something Daniel said, I could feel her gaze cutting through me.

She was trying not to look.

Trying so hard.

And failing miserably.

Brandon nudged me suddenly. "Okay, what’s going on?"

I blinked at him. "What?"

"You’re acting weird," he said, lowering his voice. "And don’t say you’re not, because I know you. Something happened."

"Nothing happened," I said, too quickly.

Brandon narrowed his eyes.

Then his gaze flickered past me—toward Glyndon.

And just like that, I knew.

He saw it.

He didn’t say anything, but the slight raise of his brow, the way his lips curved up just a little.

Yeah. He saw it.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Bran, don’t—"

"Don’t what?" he said innocently. "Don’t notice that someone keeps staring at you like she wants to either kill you or pin you against a wall?"

I glared at him.

He grinned. "Relax, I won’t say anything. But seriously, what’s going on between you two?"

"Nothing."

He snorted. "Sure."

I rolled my eyes and turned away, pretending to focus on whatever painting the guide was talking about now.

Across the room, Alex leaned into Glyndon, murmuring something in her ear.

She nodded, forcing a laugh.

But then, her eyes flickered up.

And met mine.

The moment stretched between us, sharp and charged, like a live wire waiting to snap.

And then—

BANG.

A loud noise echoed through the museum.

Shouting followed.

People started moving, looking around in confusion, and panic setting in.

Then one of the teachers yelled, "Everybody, stay together!"

I barely heard them.

Because the second the noise went off, Glyndon ran.

Not toward the exit.

Not toward her boyfriend or friends.

She ran—

Straight to me.