Juniper
He stood slightly apart from the others, arms crossed, shoulders broad enough to block out the world if he wanted to. He radiated something cold and ruthless—but not careless. Not empty. Just tightly controlled.
The one they called Ink seemed to notice anyway, tilting his head. “You all right there, sweetheart?”
She flinched at the term of endearment. It felt too soft for a place like this. “I’m fine,” she lied. “Just tired.”
“When?” Ink asked.
“Two months ago.” Saying it out loud felt like admitting to a crime. “I don’t—I don’t know what happened before that. Or who was with me. Or why someone tried to—” She swallowed. “To kill me.”
Venom’s brow creased. “I’m guessing that you got amnesia from some kind of trauma, then.”
“This isn’t soap opera amnesia,” she snapped, a little too sharply.
“I didn’t hit my head and forget a birthday party.
I woke up covered in mud with blood coming from my neck, and no idea why my hands looked like I’d been digging for my life.
I still can’t sleep without dreaming of headlights and screaming. I can’t remember anything.”
Silence, raw and heavy, filled the space between her and the men. Her chest tightened when none of them spoke. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold in the pieces that threatened to spill out whenever she spoke too much truth.
Ink cleared his throat quietly. “Sorry,” he breathed. “We didn’t mean to upset you.” She nodded but didn’t speak. She couldn’t. If she opened her mouth again, she might fall apart right there in their compound.
Venom was the one who broke the tension. “Come with me,” he ordered.
She spun toward him. “Why?”
“You need to see something,” he insisted.
She glanced toward Cyclops, Razor, and Ink, expecting them to object, but no one did.
Cyclops looked thoughtful—too thoughtful, like he was cataloging the danger she represented.
And maybe he was right to do so. She had no idea if she was a danger to any of them, but she hoped that wasn’t the case.
Venom didn’t wait for her to make a decision.
He turned and walked toward a hallway lit by dim yellow bulbs.
Juniper hesitated. Something about following Venom felt off.
Like she was stepping into a place she wasn’t sure she’d walk back out of.
But she followed anyway, because she couldn’t explain it—not even to herself—but she trusted him more than she trusted the others.
Even more than she trusted her own shattered memory.
Venom’s boots thudded steadily down the hall. He stopped at a small room that looked like an office and flicked on the light. Inside was a table, a filing cabinet, and a chair that had definitely seen better years.
“Sit,” he said, and she did. He closed the door behind them. The sound clicked through her spine like a lock sealing shut. The air changed instantly as he stood across from her, his arms braced on the table, leaning forward slightly. He wasn’t threatening, just focused—too focused.
“You said you have nightmares,” he said.
She blinked. “What?” she asked.
“You said that you couldn’t sleep at night without having nightmares about headlights and screaming. That your hands looked like you had been digging in the dirt for some reason.” His voice stayed low and level. “Tell me about your dreams.”
Her stomach dropped. “I—I told you I don’t remember what happened.”
“And I didn’t ask for what you remember,” he said.
“I asked you to tell me what you dream about.” Her breath stuttered.
She had never told anyone about her dreams. She never dared to.
Dreams felt too close to memories, and memories felt like broken glass to her right now.
But Venom waited her out--not impatiently, just steadily.
As if he knew the answer mattered and that sooner or later, she’d give it to him.
Juniper squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s always the same. I’m running. I think from someone, or toward someone. I don’t know for sure. It’s raining hard. There’s mud everywhere. My hands keep slipping. Someone’s yelling—a man, I think. But I can never make out the words.”
Venom didn’t move. “And then there’s a light,” she whispered. “Headlights, I think, and they were coming fast—too fast. I try to scream, but my throat—” Her hand lifted unconsciously to the scar beneath her scarf. “It burns.”
Venom’s voice dropped even lower. “And then?”
“And then, I wake up choking,” she whispered.
She opened her eyes and noticed that Venom hadn’t moved at all.
But his expression was different now. She didn’t see pity in his eyes, nor shock, but something tighter and sharper.
It was almost protective in a way that scared her more than anything else.
“You didn’t get that wound on your neck from falling,” he said. “That was a kill strike. Whoever did it meant to do it.”
She shivered. “I know.”
“Someone tried to finish the job,” Venom murmured. “And someone else stopped them.”
Her breath caught. “What do you mean?”
“If you woke up alive,” he said quietly, “someone dragged you out of that ditch.”
Her heart thudded painfully. She hadn’t let herself think that much about it because it was easier to believe she’d crawled out of that ditch by herself.
She liked to think that she had survived because she fought to stay alive.
But there were gaps in her memory large enough to swallow a person whole.
Venom leaned closer—not by much, but enough that she felt the heat of him, enough that her pulse tripped and her lungs tightened. “Whoever saved you,” he said, “knew you. Or knew what killing you would start.”
Juniper’s hands trembled again, and Venom seemed to notice.
This time, he didn’t comment. He just reached into a drawer, pulled out a clean glass, filled it with water, and placed it in front of her.
No theatrics, and no questions. Just an unspoken peace offering.
The gesture shouldn’t have meant anything.
But it felt intimate. Dangerous in its softness.
She drank the water as Venom watched her in a way that made her skin heat, like he was studying her but also cataloging every shiver, every breath, every flick of her gaze.
Slow-burn didn’t even feel like the right word.
This was something rawer and had a kind of gravity.
She set the glass down with shaking fingers. “What now?” she whispered.
Venom straightened, his muscles shifting under leather and tattoos. His eyes were darker now, and certain. “Now,” he said, “we figure out who wanted you dead.” He stepped closer. “And why you came running to me?”
Juniper forgot how to breathe because she didn’t know the answers to his questions. But some part of her—a deep, quiet, terrifying part—suspected Venom might be able to help her figure the answers out.
Venom (Road Reapers MC Book 7) Universal Link->Coming soon!
What’s releasing next from K.L. Ramsey? You won’t want to miss Tempest (Dark Chaos MC Book 1). It’s guaranteed to spice up your Kindle!