31. Chapter Thirty-One Abby

Chapter Thirty-One: Abby

I woke to the soft light of early morning filtering through the blinds, casting faint lines across the chaos of sheets and limbs. Nathan's chest rose and fell beneath my hand, a steady rhythm that seemed at odds with the last thirty-odd hours we'd spent tangled up in each other. Hunger had driven us—hunger for touch, for release, for something raw and unnamed that neither of us could quite grasp until now. And here, in the aftermath, I found myself tracing the intricate lines of his dragon tattoo, mapping the scars that told stories he'd kept locked away.

His eyelids fluttered open and his expression softened as he looked at me.

"Never got around to asking about these," I murmured, my fingers hovering over a particularly rugged scar near his ribs.

"You want to know about them?" he asked, his voice coated in sleep.

"I want to know everything about you."

Nathan's eyes flickered open, dark pools that held secrets and an intensity that could make anyone's heart skip—except mine was immune, or maybe just stubbornly defiant. "Some questions have answers you might not want to hear, Abby," he said, his voice still rough and warm.

"Maybe," I conceded, "but I've been trained to face things head-on."

"Even when those things are ugly?" he asked, his hand covering mine, pressing it gently against the warmth of his skin.

"Yes," I said. "I'm not afraid of that."

He closed his eyes. "I don't even know where to start."

My fingers traced the intricate lines of the dragon tattoo that sprawled across his chest. "I got this when I was sixteen," he said, his voice a low rumble in the quiet of the early morning.

"Sixteen?" I echoed, my eyebrows knitting together in concern. The idea of someone so young enduring the needle for hours stirred a sadness within me. "That must have hurt."

"Less than what led up to it," he replied, his gaze fixed on some point beyond the room's confines. "It was after the first time my dad beat me senseless. Stepped in between him and my mom." He paused, swallowing hard, the muscles in his jaw working. "Dragons are protectors. That's what I've always tried to be for them, for my mom and my siblings."

"Who did the tattoo?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady. The thought of Nathan seeking solace in the permanence of ink at such a young age made my heart ache for him.

"Friend of mine," he answered, a shadow crossing his features. "He was older, part of the operation. Taught me a few things about survival." Nathan's brow furrowed, a pained expression flitting across his face. "He's dead now. Seems like everyone who gets too close ends up that way."

"Everyone?" The word slipped from my lips before I could stop it, a mixture of fear and defiance lacing my tone.

"Everyone," he confirmed, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that held my breath captive. "It's the life we lead. It consumes everything...everyone."

I swallowed hard, trying to digest the weight of his words, the gravity of his existence. My fingers paused on the ridge of a particularly long scar that trailed down his ribcage. It looked like it had been deep, a cruel reminder etched into his skin.

"Did he do this to you?" I asked softly, unable to mask the sadness in my voice. The ‘he' hung there, heavy and unspoken, but we both knew I meant his father.

Nathan's chest rose with a slow inhale, his gaze drifting away for a moment as if he was pulling himself back from the brink of some dark memory. "Yeah," he finally breathed out, voice barely above a whisper. "But not recently."

"Because you're too strong now?" I ventured, trying to understand the twisted dynamics of his world.

"Something like that," Nathan admitted, a bitter edge to his voice. "When I was younger, it happened a lot. But I haven't let him lay a finger on me in years."

"Does he still try?" I couldn't help the fury that crept into my tone, the protective instinct that flared within me. No one deserved to be treated that way, least of all by their own family.

Nathan shook his head, a cold laugh escaping him. "He knows better now. He knows I could end him if I wanted to." There was no pride in his words, only the harsh truth of a life too acquainted with violence.

I felt a surge of anger on his behalf, a desire to fight battles I had no right to claim as my own. It was a strange sensation, this blend of protectiveness and rage, but it burned through me with startling clarity.

"Good," I said fiercely, pressing my lips into a thin line. "If he ever tries again—"

"He won't," Nathan cut me off, his hand capturing mine and holding it against his chest. "And even if he did, I can handle it. I've been handling it my whole life."

"Tell me about the first time," I asked gently, encouraging him to open up.

Nathan's eyes went distant, and he took a deep breath. His chest rose and fell under my hand, and I could feel his heartbeat—a steady drum that seemed to be bracing itself for the onslaught of memories.

"I was young. Too young." His voice was a low growl, laced with the kind of pain that never really fades. "Ba wasn't around for most of my childhood. He was on the run from the law, bouncing between Hong Kong and San Francisco. That life...it kept him away."

"Until you were nine," I filled in the gap, remembering bits and pieces he'd mentioned before.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. When he came back, everything changed. My mom...she had been in control, you know? But not after Ba returned. He took over, made sure everyone knew he was the ruler of our family."

I squeezed his hand, a silent encouragement for him to continue, but also a lifeline to the present, to the safety of our bedroom where the shadows of the past couldn't touch him—not anymore.

"Kenny Zhou..." Nathan started again, his words heavy like stones. "He was a tyrant in every sense. He demanded respect through fear. And we all learned to tread carefully, to never step out of line."

The silence stretched between us as Nathan grappled with the ghosts of his past. I didn't push, didn't rush him. Instead, I waited with the patience and quiet strength he had come to rely on. The strength he had told me more than once was his sanctuary.

"Abby," Nathan finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "That man showed me a world no kid should ever see. A world I swore I'd never become part of...and yet, here I am."

"But you're not him, Nathan. You're the man who loves plants, cares for them. The man who protects his brothers at any cost. You've taken your scars and forged something stronger. Something better."

He leaned into me, his forehead resting against mine. "You always see the good in me."

"Because it's there, Nathan," I insisted. "It's there, even when you can't see it yourself."

"Abby..." His lips brushed against mine in a ghost of a kiss, and I felt his walls shudder, felt them give way just a little bit more. "What would I do without you?"

"You'll never have to find out," I promised, sealing the vow with a kiss.

He was quiet for a moment, pulling back to stare into my eyes. Then he opened his mouth again…and it was like the floodgates had opened.

"Kenny had a way of making you feel smaller than dirt," Nathan murmured, eyes locked on mine. His were a deep brown, a darkness forged from years of pain that he rarely let anyone see. "When he got rough with us, I thought it was just how fathers taught their sons to be strong. He never touched my sister, though."

I squeezed his hand, an anchor in the turbulent sea of his memories.

"He always said he would never hurt a woman–then I saw him with Ma," he continued, voice steady but eyes haunted. "My mother...she never let on, not once. But there she was, cowering, bruised..."

Anger flared within me, a fierce protectiveness over this man who had endured so much. "What did you do, Nathan?"

"I tried to stop him." He gave a bitter laugh, void of any humor. "Thirteen years old and thinking I could take on the Serpent himself. He threw me aside like I was nothing."

I could imagine the scene too easily: young Nathan, all fire and defiance, coming up against the insurmountable force of his father. My heart ached for the boy who had to grow up too fast.

"Then he dragged me down to the basement," Nathan said, his voice dropping to a whisper as if the walls themselves might be listening. "There was a woman tied up, bloodied, scared out of her mind. And his men...they just stood there, watching."

"God, Nathan..." Words failed me. What comfort could I offer for such horrors?

"Kenny told me to show her who was in charge," Nathan's voice cracked, his dark eyes now distant, as if he were peering into a past that had never left him. "I didn't know what he meant at first. I just stood there, frozen."

The room felt cold, despite the morning sun filtering through the blinds, casting a disarming light on the darkness of his tale.

"Then he said it." The words spilled out of Nathan like venom he couldn't contain. "Put your cock in her, he said. Hurt her ." His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I saw the boy he once was, terrified and repulsed by the very thought of such an act.

"Jesus, Nathan..." My heart pounded against my ribs, each beat echoing his pain.

"I didn't even know what he meant at first," he said. "All I could focus on was the smell of blood and humidity in the basement, I couldn't even look at her. It took me so long to process what he was saying…so he made it clear with a threat."

He paused. I didn't know what to say, wondered if the story was over.

It wasn't…far from it, in fact.

"Alex was just ten. Ba knew I'd do anything to protect my brothers." His confession seeped into the space between us, heavy and suffocating. "He told me if I didn't do it, he would take one of my brothers down there. He would show them what being a man meant. He would…he would do whatever was necessary to make sure I was hard. He said he would give me a hand if I needed it, and all the people around him laughed. It made me sick, but…"

I opened my mouth to offer him comfort, but nothing came out.

"So I did it," he murmured, the words seeming to tear from his throat. "I fucked that woman, and she wept the whole time." His gaze met mine, raw and exposed. "And when it was done, when she was broken...my father put a bullet in her head."

Nausea twisted in my gut, a mix of sorrow, rage, and something else—something like understanding. This wasn't just a story; it was the moulding of the man before me, the creation of the monster he feared he was.

"God, Nathan..." I reached out, fingers trembling as they found his hand, gripping it tight. "You were just a kid..."

"Kid or not, I did those things." He withdrew slightly, as if expecting rejection, as if bracing himself for the blow of disgust he thought was coming.

But I wouldn't—I couldn't—turn away from him. Not now. Not ever.

"Sex was violence," he continued, his voice a low rumble, "a weapon to be used. Ba never saw it any other way." His eyes hardened like polished obsidian, reflecting a world where brutality reigned. "My own father used my brothers as leverage. Alex hates him for it, but he doesn't know half of what went on in that damn basement. And Justin, well, I hold onto the hope that he's too young to remember."

"Every time I think about what you've been through, it makes me want to—" I caught myself before the words spilled out. The resolve in my heart was a dangerous promise—the kind that could get us both killed. But as I looked at Nathan, the man who'd become my anchor in this twisted underworld, I knew I would do anything to protect him from his father's shadow.

I would kill Kenny Zhou if it was the last thing I ever did.

"Want to what, Abby?" he asked, his voice a soft probe.

"Nothing," I lied smoothly, mustering a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Just thinking. Was that your first time?"

"Yeah, but I don't consider it losing my virginity. That happened later."

"With a girlfriend, I hope?"

"No," he said. He studied me for a moment longer, searching for truth within the facade I offered. Then, his gaze dropped, and his confession continued, each word heavier than the last.

"Ba thought I was too soft, that my mother had been too gentle with me and had made me weak," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "When I turned sixteen, he decided it was time for me to become a ‘real man.'" The scorn in his tone was palpable as he spit out the last two words like they were poison. "So he brought me to an older woman, a prostitute."

The bile rose in my throat. "That's not how anyone should—"

"Learn about sex? Yeah, I know." Nathan's lips twisted into a bitter half-smile. "But Kenny thought if I could handle a woman, maybe I wouldn't screw up when it came to...other duties." He paused, pain flickering behind his stoic mask. "I couldn't even get hard. Not for that . Not for what Ba needed from me. It was like my body rejected the very idea of mixing pleasure and pain, affection and violence."

"Jesus."

"But this prostitute. She was pretty. Wore fake eyelashes and was very soft-spoken," he sighed, the sound laced with a decade-old shame that should never have been his to carry. "She was kind, at least. She didn't laugh or get mad. Just...undressed me and did a lot of things to make it happen. Anyway. We got there in the end. That's my first time."

My heart clenched as I listened. Assault wore many faces, and this, a formative experience twisted into a rite of passage, was one of its cruelest masks. He was just a kid, coerced into situations he couldn't consent to.

"That's so messed up," I murmured, my voice breaking on the last word.

Nathan shrugged, a ghost of a smile flickering across his face. "What do you mean? She loved it." His attempt to lighten the mood fell flat, the darkness of his past too heavy to lift with mere words.

I flinched, not at him but at the thought–at the normalization of such a vile act, at the belief that her supposed pleasure could justify the means. I wanted to scream, to tear down the walls that had been built around his heart, brick by brick, since that day.

But instead, I went quiet. There were no words for this kind of pain, this kind of wrongness. So I just listened—listened to the steady thump of Nathan's heartbeat against my ear, to the rhythm of his breathing as it slowed and deepened. The tension that held his frame tight began to dissipate, and in the dim morning light, his features softened.

I could feel myself starting to drift off again, lulled by the warmth of his body next to mine when his whisper cut through the silence.

"Abby, do you hate me now?"

The question, barely audible, vibrated with vulnerability. I shifted, propping my head on my hand as I met his gaze. In the depths of his brown eyes, I saw the flicker of fear, the shadow of a boy who had been forced to grow up too fast, in a world that demanded violence and repaid innocence with cruelty.

"No, Nathan," I answered, my voice firm even as my heart ached. "I could never hate you. Nothing's going to get between us, no matter how fucked up it is."

The resolve in my voice was as much for him as it was a promise to myself. This world, this life—it had tried to break us both in different ways, but here we were, clinging to each other amidst the chaos.

Nathan's hand reached up, fingers brushing against my cheek with a tenderness that belied the harshness of his world. His touch was a balm, soothing the raw edges of my soul.

"I'm glad," he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken stories, of blood and loss. "Because Kenny Zhou made me the monster I am...but I don't want to be like him."

I watched him, the long set of his lashes, the lines of his neck. "Have you ever thought about killing him?"

He laughed. "Yeah," he said. "I used to think about it every single day of my life. But there's no way, Abby. He's in the roots of everything our family does, entrenched in it all."

"Okay," I replied. "But if this were a garden, wouldn't you be taking care of the rot?"