Veins of Vengeance
I thought he seemed familiar, and a closer look at him now, I knew he was the waiter that had almost walked into me earlier, back at the gala.
Thinking about it, it had seemed suspicious, but I didn’t pay much attention.
“The doctor found some heavy traces of nicotine in your blood sample, Seraphina,” Lazaro continued, his tone taking an edge, as he walked over to the limp frame of the man.
“It turns out this bastard here,” he threw a heavy punch in the man’s face, rousing him from his slumber, “had mixed in about a hundred and fifty milligrams of nicotine into the champagne he served you. He’d prepared it specially for you. To kill you.”
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