29. Chapter Twenty-Nine Abby

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Abby

T he engine's growl died as abruptly as my sense of safety. Nathan's black sedan stood still, an unwelcome shadow under the towering redwoods.

"Get out," his voice was hard, unyielding, a command that echoed against the closed park gates that loomed in the darkness.

"Where are we?" My voice came out steadier than I felt, eyes locked on the dense forest that shrouded us in mystery and menace. "What are you planning to do?"

"Get. Out!" His shout cut through the eerie silence like a knife, leaving no room for argument.

My hand gripped the door handle, cold metal biting into my palm. I hesitated, but only for a moment before stepping out into the night, the chill of the air wrapping around me like an omen. Nathan didn't seem to care about the late hour or the closed gates.

I did as I was told, my heart hammering against my ribcage as if trying to escape the fate I hoped wasn't mine. My feet crunched on the gravel, the sound unnaturally loud in the thick silence of the forest. The night air bit at my skin, and a shiver ran through me, though not from the cold.

His movements were deliberate, each action chillingly precise. The glovebox popped open with a click that felt like a gunshot in the stillness. My breath hitched when his hand reappeared, the dim moonlight glinting off the gun he now held—a stark reminder of the world he ruled.

"Seriously, Nathan?" My voice cracked, betraying the fear I tried to cloak in bravado.

He ignored my question, opening the driver's side door and stepping out with predatory grace. He stalked around the car, closing the distance between us. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating, and when his hand clamped around my arm, it was all I could do not to recoil in terror.

"Let go," I snapped, jerking my arm away with more force than I thought I possessed. "I can walk on my own."

"Then move." His command was a low growl, a threat that promised consequences if disobeyed.

I knew better than to argue further. I knew he didn't bluff, and I wasn't about to test him now—not when the stakes were this high. So, I followed his lead, stepping into the embrace of the redwoods, where the secrets of darkness awaited us.

The forest swallowed us whole, the towering trees standing sentinel as we ventured deeper into their domain. Nathan's footsteps were silent on the forest floor, a stark contrast to my own erratic tread. He moved with the certainty of a predator in his territory; I was the interloper here, a fact both fascinating and terrifying.

"Keep up," he snarled without looking back, and I quickened my pace, my gaze locked on the gun in his hand.

My heart pounded against my ribcage, a frantic drumbeat echoing the unease that crawled under my skin. Yet, despite the gnawing apprehension, there was no room for hesitation. The choice had been made the moment I stepped out of the car, propelled by a mix of duty and an inexplicable trust that Nathan wouldn't lead me to my demise—not yet, at least.

As we moved, dappled moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting ghostly shadows that danced across our path. My vision adjusted swiftly, the eerie luminescence rendering the mist that hung in the air ethereal and otherworldly. The sight should've been beautiful, but with Nathan's gun a constant reminder of the danger at my side, it felt more like a prelude to some grim fairy tale.

I was trained for dangerous situations, but nothing prepared me for this—the stillness of the forest, or the man who seemed as much a part of it as the trees themselves. My pulse thrummed in my ears, a rhythmic reminder that every step took me further from the world I knew and deeper into his.

"Where are we going?" The question escaped my lips before I could stop it, a whisper lost among the giants around us.

"Quiet," was all he offered in return, his voice slicing through the silence before fading into the night.

So, I followed him into the darkness, knowing full well the gravity of the path we walked. And whatever lay ahead, I sensed that walking away was never truly an option. Not now. Not with him.

We had barely covered half a mile when Nathan halted so abruptly, I nearly crashed into him. His black hair seemed to merge with the shadows, but his brown eyes held glints of moonlight, making them almost visible in the darkness. He turned toward me, and for a heartbeat, the forest held its breath.

"Take it," he said, extending his hand toward me. I looked down to find the gun in his hand, his fingers clenched around the muzzle–offering it up.

My brain stuttered. "What the hell is going on, Nathan?" My voice was steady, but inside, I was a mess of frayed nerves.

He grabbed my hand, closed my fingers around the handle of the gun, put my finger on the trigger. Then, he stepped back, hands raised in a gesture of surrender—or was it something else?

"What the hell, Nathan?"

"Abby," he whispered fiercely, his voice slicing through the night's calm. "You might as well pull the trigger because asking me to choose between protecting you or my family...it will break me more than any bullet could."

I felt the chill of the forest seep into my bones, but it was nothing compared to the ice in his words. The life we were entangled in, the life that he was born into and I had infiltrated, was a cruel mistress.

He didn't want me joining the Triad; the weight of that life had bowed his shoulders in ways I'd only begun to understand. His philosophy degree from Stanford, his care for the orchids at the flower shop—they were the silent screams of a man yearning for a world beyond blood and betrayal.

An understanding of him formed, crystal clear in my mind.

I had started to get him, but now I completely understood.

"Please, Abby," Nathan continued, his voice now barely above a whisper. "Don't do this. Don't become what this life will make you."

In a fluid motion that betrayed the turmoil beneath his stoic exterior, Nathan dropped to his knees before me. His tan skin seemed to blend with the earth, grounding him in a moment of vulnerability I'd never seen in him. He reached up, his fingers wrapping around mine, which were still cold and hesitant on the grip of the gun.

"Kill me if you have to," he said, pressing the barrel to his forehead, his brown eyes locked onto mine. "But don't let this life kill who you are."

My heart thundered against my ribs, a stark contrast to the serenity of the redwood giants surrounding us. "I don't…I don't want this…"

"If you kill me now, you could get away with all of it," he whispered. "Tell your story to the FBI, get your dad to help you escape the Serpents. My keys are in my pocket–so kill me, leave me here, report it. Then…then we'll both be free."

Free of what? Free of his father, this life that had broken him?

My heart ached for him…and I knew I couldn't pull that trigger.

"Get up, Nathan," I said, my voice stronger than I felt.

"Please, Abby." His plea was raw, cutting deeper than any knife. He was ready to sacrifice himself to save me from the darkness that clung to his very being.

"Damn it, Nathan, stop this!" My own desperation surged as I stared down at him, terrified that he might just tip my finger enough to end it all. His hands were still wrapped around mine, holding the gun to his own forehead, and I could feel him shaking.

"Abby…"

"Get the hell up," I managed to choke out, my voice laced with a blend of fear and defiance. "I'm not doing this."

"Then they'll come for you," he murmured, his words threading through the cool night air like smoke. "And I can't...I won't let that happen, Abby."

For a moment, time stood still, the only sound our synchronized breathing and the distant call of nocturnal creatures. Nathan's eyes never left mine, those dark pools holding me captive more than the gun ever could. The weight of the weapon seemed to magnify in my hand, each second stretching longer than the last.

"Please..." he begged, and it shattered something inside me—this man who dealt in death, begging for his own.

"Damn you, Nathan Zhou," I whispered, my resolve fracturing. Every instinct I had screamed at me to walk away, but here I was, caught in his gravitational pull, unable to leave or to comply.

The standoff lingered, the gun a heavy presence between us, loaded with far more than bullets. It was loaded with the unbearable tension of what we were—what we could never be. And in that protracted moment, as we hovered on the precipice of life and death, I truly understood the gravity of the path I'd chosen when I entangled my fate with his.

I couldn't shoot Nathan. But I also couldn't let him go, not with the secrets he had locked behind those inscrutable eyes. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a reminder of how far I'd strayed from my mission, from the woman I was supposed to be. The FBI agent in me warred with the woman who had come to know the man behind the mafia prince fa?ade.

"Abby, don't." His voice was stern now, a command that tried to bridge the distance our silent standoff had created.

But I was done with commands.

Done with being pulled by strings I didn't control.

In a move that felt like clawing back some semblance of power, I shifted the gun with an unsteady hand and pressed the cold barrel under my chin. His name was a prayer and a curse on my lips as I met his gaze one last time, my own eyes a tempest of fear and defiance.

"Tell me why I shouldn't," I demanded, my finger twitching against the trigger. "Give me something real, Nathan. Now."

The forest held its breath with me, waiting for his answer.

Waiting to see if death would claim us both.