26. Chapter Twenty-Six Nathan

Chapter Twenty-Six: Nathan

T he city had a way of making you feel watched, even when the streets were empty and the sky was just a dull blanket above.

We parked our car a few blocks away then walked the rest of the way to Venom Custom Motors, careful to keep our path hidden. Abby and I wove through the back alleys of downtown, our steps synchronized in silence. Every now and then, I cast a glance over my shoulder, searching for any sign that we'd been spotted. The last thing I needed was for Ba to figure out what I was up to; if he suspected I was siding with Alex against him…I didn't even want to think about that.

"Keep your eyes peeled for anything out of place," I murmured to Abby, breaking the tense quiet as we neared Venom. "Footprints, receipts, hell, a candy wrapper that seems off—anything that might tell us where Neon and Javi bolted."

Abby shot me a look that was half-amusement, half-exasperation. "Hey—trained FBI agent, remember?" she smirked. "I actually went to school for this, Mr. Philosophy Degree."

"Right, right," I said with a chuckle that felt forced even to my own ears, "should've known better than to tell an agent her business."

We rounded the corner, and the sight of Venom Motors loomed ahead, its windows dark, its facade uninviting. I tucked my hands into my pockets to hide their trembling.

This was it.

Time to dive into the belly of the beast and see what secrets it kept hidden in its shadows.

I led the way to the back of the shop, my heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted out. Every instinct screamed that this was wrong—too quiet, too abandoned. I fished through my belt loop and retrieved the heavy ring of keys, each one a tiny cold metal promise. Fumbling slightly, I found the one stamped with a worn VM insignia, the service entrance key.

"Got it," I muttered, sliding the key into the lock. The tumblers gave way with an almost inaudible click, and I pushed the door open, ushering Abby in ahead of me.

The air inside was stale, dust motes dancing lazily in the slivers of light that pierced through gaps in the boarded-up windows. Venom Motors had been deserted in haste, that much was clear.

"Jesus," Abby whispered beside me as we took in the chaos before us.

Cars and motorcycles lay in various states of disassembly, their innards spread across workbenches and the concrete floor like mechanical guts. Tools were scattered without care, and half-filled coffee cups sat abandoned, the liquid within long since evaporated into a bitter residue. It was as though the guys had vanished mid-throttle, leaving behind the ghost of their presence.

"Looks like they didn't plan to leave…" My words trailed off as I stepped over a grease-stained manual sprawled open on the ground, its pages frozen mid-flip.

Abby moved to examine a motorcycle propped up on a lift, her eyes scanning for something that might have been overlooked in the rush. She was thorough, meticulous—the perfect counterbalance to the chaos that seemed to follow me like a shadow.

"Or they didn't have time to care," she added quietly, peering closer at the bike's exposed engine. "This was fast, Nathan. Too fast."

I nodded, feeling the weight of the situation settle like lead in my stomach. Whatever went down here, it wasn't just a simple getaway. Something—or someone—had spooked Neon and Javi good.

"Let's keep looking," I said, my voice steady even as my mind raced. "There has to be something here that tells us where they went."

Abby met my gaze, her eyes steady and resolute. "We'll find it," she assured me.

And despite everything, I believed her.

"Let's split up," I suggested, my hand instinctively reaching for the keys on my belt loop. "Cover more ground."

"Agreed," Abby nodded. "I'll take the shop floor. You?"

"Back office," I replied.

As she turned to survey the disarrayed shop with a keen eye, I made my way toward the back where the office lay. The door was closed, its surface marred by scratches and dents—silent witnesses to the rough clientele that frequented Venom Motors.

I fumbled through the heavy ring of keys once again, each metallic clink echoing in the hollow space, but none slid into the lock smoothly. My frustration simmered as I tried key after key, the tension coiling tighter in my chest; we were supposed to have the key to every Serpents operation on this ring, but it seemed Alex had changed the lock to the office. Not exactly a point in his favor.

"Dammit," I muttered under my breath.

Brute force seemed like the only option left.

I grasped the handle firmly, threw my weight against the door, and with a grunt of effort, broke the lock. The handle gave way with a loud snap, rattling against the silence of the shop.

Stepping over the threshold, I was immediately struck by the clutter—an organized chaos that hinted at the lives of those who had once inhabited this space. Fast-food wrappers littered a corner desk, a myriad of tools lay scattered on workbenches, and oil-stained manuals sprawled open as if just consulted.

My gaze shifted across the room, landing on a photo pinned against the wall amidst a collage of racing posters and pin-up calendars. It was an image that could've been ripped straight from a high school yearbook—Alex, Neon, and Javi, arms slung around each other's shoulders, grinning widely at the camera. They looked happy, carefree, untouched by the life that had already begun to ensnare them.

A pang of envy twisted in my gut as I studied Alex's face. He'd always thought I was the lucky one, born into the Serpent's nest with a silver spoon. But he didn't know the price of that birthright, the weight of expectations that came with being heir apparent.

"Should've been you," I whispered to his frozen smile. "You had the chance to escape."

I lingered for a moment, lost in the memories of a time when things were simpler, when our choices seemed as wide and open as the horizon. But that horizon had long since closed in, and now we were all trapped in the tightening coil of my father's making.

Shaking off the ghosts of the past, I turned my attention back to the present. Time was slipping away, and we needed answers.

"Nathan, come here!"

The urgency in Abby's voice snapped me back to the present, and my heart leaped into my throat. I surged out of the dusty office, images of her being ambushed by someone who'd doubled back flooding my mind.

"Here," she called again, and the tension bled from my body when I spotted her crouched by the customer service door, inspecting something on the floor.

"Christ, Abby, don't do that to me," I rasped as I approached, trying to steady the adrenaline coursing through me.

"Look."

She pointed without looking up at me, her finger indicating three envelopes spread out before her. Each one bore a set of car keys, the metal glinting faintly in the dim light filtering through the grimy windows.

"Customers must've dropped these off thinking Venom was still open for business," I said, kneeling beside her to get a better look.

"Which means they definitely left in a hurry," Abby concluded, straightening up. Her eyes met mine, sharp and calculating. "No plans to skip town, no word to their clients—the accusation on Alex must have taken them completely by surprise."

"Obvious enough," I muttered, running a hand through my hair, frustration nipping at me. "Find anything else?"

Her lips twitched into a smirk as she produced a phone from her pocket. "Just this. But it's dead. We'll need to charge it."

"Let's head back to the office," I suggested, and Abby nodded, slipping the phone into her jacket pocket.

We returned to the office and I made a beeline for the ancient computer sitting like a dusty relic on the desk. Meanwhile, Abby fished out a charger from her bag and plugged in the phone.

"Who still uses these things?" I mumbled as I jiggled the mouse, the screen flickering to life. A prompt for a password appeared and I couldn't help but snort when "password" let me right in.

"Wow, Nathan, you cracked the code," Abby teased, peering over my shoulder. "Kinda odd for a criminal mastermind to be so lax with security, huh?"

"Guess they didn't expect anyone to get this far." I clicked through files and folders, finding nothing but old invoices and supply orders—nothing useful.

While I scavenged the digital wasteland, the phone on the desk buzzed to life. Abby picked it up, her fingers dancing across the screen. "It's Neon's," she said. "Unlocked, too. These guys really need to be more careful."

"Typical." I watched her scroll through the contents. "Anything worth our time?"

"Voicemail from Alex," she announced, a hint of urgency coloring her voice.

Abby tapped the voicemail, and a voice that was all too familiar filled the room. It was Alex, his words rushed and laced with panic.

"Dude, you need to fucking hurry! I don't know what the hell is going on, he's gonna kill me—" The message cut off abruptly.

Cold recognition washed over me. My own voice, a distant roar in the background of the recording, chilled my blood. It was the hospital, the day I'd been chasing him down—the last time I saw him. I remembered the fear in his eyes, the way his breath had come out in ragged sobs. That wasn't the face of a man who knew what was happening—it was pure terror.

"Jesus," I murmured, the memory gnawing at me. I glanced at Abby, finding her eyes already on me.

"That really doesn't sound like someone who knew what was going on," she said, her tone even but her gaze probing.

"Let's reach out," I suggested, my voice firm despite the unease that lingered in my chest. "We can't leave this trail cold."

Abby nodded, her fingers moving deftly over Neon's phone. She crafted a message with an efficiency that spoke of her FBI training. "Sending to both Alex and Javi. ‘Shop's closed, but we're here looking for you. Contact us.'"

"Good." I watched as she hit send, then I pulled the burner phone I'd brought with me out of my pocket. It was the only way I would be able to reach Alex…and if one of them came back here, maybe he would call.

I had to hope he was safe out there.

We left Venom Motors behind, the door shutting with a finality that echoed through the empty streets. Abby slipped her hand into mine, a silent show of solidarity. It was a small gesture, but in that touch, there was a promise—a vow that no matter what was ahead, we'd face it together.

Abby's presence was a constant reminder of what was at stake—and of what I stood to lose. But right then, as her fingers intertwined with mine, I felt something other than fear.

Hope.