24. Chapter Twenty-Four Nathan

Chapter Twenty-Four: Nathan

M y head was still spinning as we left Chinatown in our separate cars—Abby going straight home, me heading toward a takeout place before I met her there.

The cool fall air swept over my skin as I pulled into the driveway, headlights sweeping across the front of the house as the garage door opened. Abby was waiting on the garage steps, hands clasped, a smile on her face.

"Got dinner," I said, holding up the takeout bag as I got out of the car.

"Smells good," she replied. I was sure it did, but all I could smell was smoke…and all I could see was Mr. Lao being put in a body bag. "I'm glad you're back."

I wanted to believe in her—believe that the woman who had infiltrated my life, my bed, wasn't just doing her job but felt something real. Since that night in the kitchen, when passion and fury had collided, we hadn't touched each other. Not like that. The memory was vivid, almost too much so, every sensation etched into my mind.

But it was the aftermath that haunted me—the realization that I could lose myself so completely in someone and still not know them at all.

"Let's go inside. I'm starving…and we have a lot to talk about," she said, her shoulder bumping mine softly, an echo of intimacy.

"Right behind you," I murmured, watching her climb the steps before I followed, closing the distance yet feeling miles apart. We were back in my space—our space—but everything had shifted.

Inside, the warmth did nothing to ease the chill that had settled over me. The house was silent except for the sound of our footsteps and the soft rustle of the bag as Abby set it down on the counter. The air between us was thick with unspoken words, heavy with the weight of betrayal and desperation.

"Chicken lo mein?" she asked, glancing at me over her shoulder with a half-smile that once would have disarmed me completely.

"Thought I remembered you saying you liked it," I managed, forcing a smile of my own. Trust was fragile, and mine was cracked—not shattered, not yet. Because despite everything, I couldn't keep away from her. She was a magnet, pulling me inexorably back, time and time again.

We moved around the kitchen, a dance we'd performed countless times before, but now every step was measured, careful. I watched her, searching for signs of deceit, for the slightest hint that she was still playing me. But all I saw was Abby—the woman I knew, or thought I did.

"Everything okay?" she asked, her voice cutting through the silence that had stretched between us.

"Yeah," I lied, "everything's fine."

But it wasn't, and we both knew it. There was a gulf between us now, one week wide and a lifetime deep, filled with secrets and lies. And yet, here we were, trying to bridge it with small talk and Chinese food, as if that could somehow make things right again.

I wanted to trust her, god, I wanted to so badly. But wanting and having were two very different things.

I plucked a bottle of white wine from the rack, the cool glass feeling alien in my hand. It was an attempt to add normalcy, a veneer over the tension that seemed to thicken the air around us. I poured two glasses, and our fingers brushed as I handed one to her. The contact sent a jolt through me, reminding me of other times, other touches.

But now wasn't the time for reminiscing; there were things we needed to face.\

"Shall we?" Abby gestured towards the living room with a nod, and I followed her lead, each step feeling like a decision I wasn't sure I had fully made.

We settled on the couch, plates balanced precariously on our laps as we ate in silence. The TV played in the background, a low murmur that neither of us paid much attention to. Until a particular story caught my ear, and I looked up to see images of Chinatown ablaze, black smoke billowing into the sky.

"Turn it off," Abby said softly, her eyes not leaving the screen.

I reached for the remote and hit the button, the screen going dark with a click. My head shook almost imperceptibly, a silent acknowledgment of the chaos outside these walls—chaos that felt too close to home, too entangled with my own life.

The silence returned, settling around us like a shroud. We continued to eat, but the food tasted like ash on my tongue. With every bite, I could taste the bitterness of uncertainty, the sour tang of suspicion. And beneath it all, the undeniable flavor of fear—for what had happened, and for what was yet to come.

In the quiet that followed, the only sound was the soft clink of chopsticks against the plates. Abby cleared her throat, breaking the stillness that hung between us like a thick fog. "Nathan, do you have any ideas who's responsible?"

I felt my jaw tighten, the muscles working as if I were chewing on nails instead of rice. I set my plate aside, feeling the weight of her question settle in my stomach like lead. "I should," I admitted, and the words tasted of defeat. "It's been long enough at this point that it's become clear I'm not doing my job."

There it was—the admission, hanging heavy in the air between us. It was an acknowledgment of my own shortcomings, a confession that despite the time that had passed, the pieces of this intricate puzzle remained scattered and elusive.

"Hey," she said softly, reaching for my hand. Her touch was warm, grounding. "You're doing everything you can."

I wanted to believe her, to let the comfort of her words wash over me and cleanse away the doubt. But the truth was a stubborn stain, one that wouldn't fade so easily. There were too many questions, too many shadows where the answers should be. And somewhere in that darkness, danger lurked, ready to strike again at a moment's notice.

When would the darkness get my family? My siblings, my mother…Abby?

"Nathan," Abby said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I don't know if you're going to want to hear this, but…Lou mentioned something odd about Knuckles. He said he saw him coming into the Red Lantern a bunch earlier this year. Said there were meetings with some woman that seemed…shady."

I took a second to process the words, swallowing my food even though it felt like a lead weight dropping into my stomach.

"Knuckles is solid," I said, feeling a reflexive surge of defense for the man who had been more than just an employee to my father—more than just muscle. "He's been my dad's right hand for years. The guy's loyal. When Ba was off handling business in Hong Kong, it was Knuckles here keeping things together. He practically played father to me during those times."

I could feel the memories pressing in on me, the weight of a childhood spent in the margins of my father's world, where loyalty and trust were the currency that mattered most. Knuckles had been a constant presence, a pillar in a life filled with uncertainties.

"Maybe it was nothing," Abby suggested, but her gaze didn't quite meet mine, and I could tell her mind was racing with possibilities. "But we should probably look into it. If there's even a chance Knuckles is involved…"

"Knuckles wouldn't do this," I reiterated, more to myself than to Abby. "He's family."

"I want to believe you, Nathan." She put down her carton, and her voice was soft, almost apologetic. "But we have to consider every possibility. What if the woman Knuckles was meeting with was Xinyi Lin?"

The name hit me like a punch in the gut. Xinyi Lin—the woman whose allegiance to the Serpents was tenuous at best, especially after I'd beaten the hell out of her son. I'd heard he still hadn't recovered—that his hand was broken, maybe useless for good.

A heavy silence settled between us, thick as the San Francisco fog rolling in off the water beyond the balcony. The thought of Knuckles betraying us seemed as foreign to me as trusting an FBI agent had once been.

But here I was, sitting beside Abby, considering both.

"Knuckles cares about us," I found myself saying, my voice barely above a whisper. "Especially the kids. He's always treated us like his own."

But there it was—the realization that might just unravel everything. Because Ba—my father—hadn't always treated us with the same regard. And now he was after Alex, my brother, blood calling for blood in some twisted family feud.

"Even if Knuckles is behind this," I muttered, the words feeling like shards of glass on my tongue, "I wouldn't even know how to start figuring it out." My hands felt useless, resting limply on my knees.

Abby reached over, her touch gentle as she covered my hand with hers. Her eyes were earnest, pleading. "Let me help you, Nathan. We can figure this out together."

I stared at her, trying to pick apart the truth from possible lies. Abby's face was an open book, but that meant nothing. She'd played me before, with her FBI badge tucked out of sight like a concealed weapon. Yet there I was, wanting—no, needing—her help.

"Alright," I said, my voice rough as if I hadn't spoken for days. "What do you suggest?"

"First place we go is Alex," she stated without hesitation.

"Alex has been off the grid for nearly two weeks," I reminded her, skepticism lacing my tone. "No one's seen him, not even a whisper."

"Then you treat it like an FBI agent would," Abby countered, her gaze locked onto mine. "You find the people closest to him."

"His friends," I murmured, finally understanding her angle. It was basic strategy; work your way up the chain. It made sense, but it also made everything more real, more dangerous. This wasn't just about figuring out a puzzle anymore—it was about family, about blood.

And if I found him and he really was a traitor…I would have to kill him.

I didn't want my brother's blood on my hands.

Suddenly, I realized how deep I was in this game—a game that could cost us everything. But I had no other play. Abby was right.

"Okay," I agreed, my decision firm. "We start with his friends."

"You know them?"

"Neon Nelson and Javi Alvarez," I said, the names tasting like betrayal on my tongue. These were guys I'd known since we were all kids running through the streets, thinking we were invincible. Now they might hold the key to finding my brother—or revealing his guilt.

Abby's eyes reflected a glint of approval, and for a moment, I saw the agent in her more than the woman I couldn't stop wanting. "We'll go looking for them tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," I agreed, feeling the weight of the impending day. It was a lead, a step closer to the truth, but it also meant facing the possibility that Alex, and maybe even Knuckles, weren't the men I thought they were. The family I fought to protect could be the very one unraveling at the seams.

"Get some rest, Nathan," Abby said softly, her hand lingering on mine for a moment longer than necessary. "You're going to need it."

Rest. The concept seemed as foreign as trust these days. But she was right. Tomorrow would come, and with it, a journey into a web of loyalties and lies.

And I had to be ready for whatever we found.