37. Chapter Thirty-Seven Nathan

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Nathan

A fter tonight, she would truly be part of my world.

The night air was thick with a hint of danger as I pulled the car into the old warehouse off the cluttered streets of Chinatown. Abby got out and watched as I covered the car with a tarp, tucking it seamlessly against the walls of the warehouse.

"Pretty secretive, huh?" she said, a note of excitement threaded through her words.

"Secrecy's just scratching the surface," I replied as I looked over at her. The dim light from the warehouse windows caught the edges of her face, painting her in hues of anticipation and curiosity. "There's more. I need to blindfold you."

Her lips parted slightly, but she didn't protest. Instead, she squared her shoulders—a move I'd come to recognize as her way of bracing for the unknown. "Okay, Nathan. I trust you."

"Good girl," I murmured, half-teasing, half-serious.

She rolled her eyes.

Maybe not so good.

My fingers brushed against her cheek as I slipped the black cloth around her head, obscuring her vision. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine we were just a couple about to share some clandestine surprise, not diving deeper into Triad secrets.

"Take my hand," I instructed, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders. She placed her hand in mine, soft yet steady, and I led her out of the car and across the concrete floor. Her steps were tentative but trusting, a tiny testament to the bond between us.

We reached the back, where dust-coated shelves hid a barely visible panel in the door, along with a keypad concealed beneath an old hot rod poster. I pressed a series of numbers into the keypad, then a faint click echoed, and the entrance to a world beneath the city opened before us. Abby stood silent, her hand still in mine, unknowing yet unflinching.

I felt like I was dragging her into hell itself.

Maybe I was.

"Ready?" I asked, a whisper meant only for her.

"Absolutely," she answered, her voice steady as the pulse I felt beneath my fingertips.

We descended, the stairs a narrow coil of concrete winding down into the belly of the city. The air grew cooler, damper, with each step, like diving into a lake's depths.

"Where are we?" Abby's voice echoed slightly off the close walls.

"Old Prohibition-era tunnels," I said low enough so only she could hear. "They're all over the city."

"Is this how you get around unnoticed?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "This is how I took you to 118 California that night you found me at Grant Avenue Floral."

"Crafty," she remarked, a playful note in her voice despite the situation.

"Comes with the territory."

I sensed her nod, even though I couldn't see her face. We continued on, our footsteps a muted shuffle against the dirt floor. Abby's grip on my hand tightened fractionally as we navigated the turns and junctions of the labyrinthine passages.

The further we walked, the more I felt the weight of what I was about to do. Initiating Abby into this life—it wasn't fair to her. But it wasn't just about fairness; it was about survival. And she was too important to lose.

"Are those voices?" she whispered, tension seeping into her words.

"Yeah—we're almost there," I assured her, though I was unsure whether it was indeed reassurance or a warning.

Ahead, the darkness gave way to a soft, amber glow. Murmuring voices filtered through the stillness, growing clearer as we approached the source. My steps slowed, caution taking over instinct as I reached another disguised door, this one a seamless part of the tunnel wall.

I released Abby's hand for a moment to punch in yet another series of digits; memorized codes the keys to the kingdom. The lock disengaged with a soft beep, and the door swung open soundlessly on well-oiled hinges. A warm light spilled out, inviting yet dangerous, and I couldn't stop the swell of pride at the sight of the world I was bringing her into—a world where strength and loyalty ruled, a world that would now be hers too.

In a way, I loved this life as much as I hated it.

"Welcome to the Serpent's Den," I said, a hint of ceremony in my voice as I guided her through the threshold and into the beating heart of our empire.

The Serpents' HQ was usually just an echo of empty space and concrete, but tonight it was transformed. Gold silk banners hung from the rafters, their luxurious sheen catching the light from the vintage bulbs overhead. About two dozen men and their wives were scattered around, their voices a low hum of conversation that bounced off the walls. They were the upper crust of the Serpents—moneyed, powerful, and dangerous—and they mingled like they were at some high-class cocktail party instead of in the bowels of Chinatown.

Guards stood by the doors, their eyes sharp beneath the brims of their hats. One of them nodded at me—respect in his gaze—and I knew this was more than acknowledgment. It was acceptance.

I didn't recognize a single one of them, which set me ill at ease…but I knew we had to go through with this.

We were in too deep to turn back.

"Time for you to really see," I said, my fingers working deftly as I pulled off Abby's blindfold and tucked the fabric into my pocket. Her eyes blinked against the sudden illumination, adjusting to the clandestine opulence before us.

Abby's gaze darted around, taking in every detail with that curious, analytical stare that both infuriated and thrilled me. She was all wide eyes and raw wonder, a stark contrast to the hardened criminals that surrounded us.

"Remember, act natural," I murmured, squeezing her hand. "No veiled interrogations or talk about the fires or anything else. Tonight, you're one of us."

I could feel her nod, her grip on my hand tightening just slightly. Silence settled between us, loaded with unspoken understanding. She was good at playing roles—she had to be in her line of work—but this wasn't a role. This was her crossing into my world for real, and the gravity of it weighed heavy on my chest.

"Got it," she replied, her voice steady yet soft, betraying none of the nerves I knew thrummed beneath her skin.

"Abby!"

The name cut through the low hum of conversations, a beacon in the sea of unfamiliar faces. We both turned toward the voice. Lily, clearly nervous from the look on her face, was weaving through the crowd with my mother by her side. They were dressed up for the occasion—their dresses simple but elegant, a silent nod to the gravity of tonight's ceremony.

"Hey," Abby breathed out, a small smile flickering on her lips as Lily reached us and pulled her into a hug. It was a brief, careful embrace, the kind exchanged between soldiers rather than friends.

"I'm so glad you're here," Lily whispered into Abby's ear. "This is all really intimidating."

Her words hung in the air like smoke, a truth that resonated deep within my bones. I knew all too well the uneasy dance between fear and duty that played out in the minds of those who stepped into our world.

It was something I'd lived with every day of my life.

Ma's gaze met mine briefly before she addressed them both, her voice warm yet firm. "The vows are straightforward," she said, embodying the calm assurance of someone who had navigated these waters before. "They shouldn't scare you any more than what you've already faced by being involved with the Serpents. We take care of each other—that's how it works."

Abby nodded, her eyes locking onto Ma's with an intensity that spoke volumes. She was ready to step into this new chapter, to accept whatever it demanded of her. And though it was just another day in the life of the Triad, for Abby, it was the beginning of something entirely different—a pledge of loyalty to a world that was as dangerous as it was binding.

"Thank you, Evelyn," Abby said, her gratitude genuine, her voice steady. A hint of steel laced her words—a reminder that she wasn't just some damsel; she was a woman made of grit, capable of standing her ground.

"Are you ready?" Ma asked, her eyes softening.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Abby replied with a small, determined nod.

"Good," Ma said with a nod of approval.

Her attention then drifted past Abby and Lily, scanning the room as if to silently summon everyone to the ritual about to unfold—and I followed her gaze to find my father standing behind an altar, waiting for all four of us. His voice, deep and resonant, cut through the silence like a blade: "It's time."

The gathered members shifted their attention, forming a semi-circle around the ceremonial space dominated by an altar carved with a serpent, emeralds glinting in its eyes—an enduring symbol of our legacy and power. The air was thick with anticipation, and the scent of incense hung heavy, intertwining with the subtle notes of jasmine from the tea prepared for the oath.

I moved through the crowd, my path clear as I approached my father's side. His presence was magnetic; even without saying a word, he commanded respect. As I took my place beside him, I caught the subtle lift of his brow—a silent acknowledgment of what was to come.

Abby and Lily, their faces a mixture of nerves and resolve, knelt on the red velvet cushions laid out before the altar. Their poise under pressure didn't go unnoticed; it was a trait valued above many in our world. They were outsiders stepping into the fold, but they did so with a grace that belied the gravity of their commitment.

Ma positioned herself across from Ba completing the circle. It was a familiar sight—these rituals had been a part of my life since I could remember—but this time, it was different. My mother stepped forward, assuming a role I hadn't seen her take before. In all my years, I'd never witnessed her lead a ceremony, and the realization sent a jolt of curiosity through me.

"Tonight is significant," she began, her voice clear and authoritative, yet laced with a warmth that only those closest to her would recognize. "Not just for you two," she motioned to Abby and Lily, "but for our family as a whole."

I watched, pride swelling within me as Ma continued, her words a guiding force. She spoke not just as my mother or as Evelyn Zhou, the wife of the Serpent, but as a pillar of our community—the matriarch whose strength often went unseen but was nonetheless the backbone of our operations.

"Tonight, Lily and Abigail stand at the threshold, ready to join the Golden Circle. Remember—loyalty is the chain that binds us, secrecy the veil that shields us, and honor the blade that defends us," Ma's voice carried across the hushed room. "Are you prepared to swear these oaths?"

The weight of her words filled the air. I could feel every pair of eyes in the room fixed on the two kneeling figures. Abby's posture was straight, her chin lifted with a courage that made my chest tighten. Beside her, Lily's determination mirrored Abby's resolve, yet I caught the slight tremor of her hand—an honest display of her humanity.

Abby nodded first, a small but resolute gesture. Then, as if driven by an invisible force, she reached out to Lily. Their hands met, fingers intertwining for the briefest of moments—a fleeting touch that spoke volumes of the solidarity between them—and I knew then that, even if something happened to me, Abby would protect my younger siblings.

I loved her so fucking much.

"We're ready," Abby said, Lily nodding along with her.

Ma's hands were steady as she poured the jasmine tea. The steam curled upward, carrying with it a scent that momentarily transported me to quieter times, far from the underbelly of Chinatown. As I lifted a ceramic cup from the altar, the familiarity of the ritual did little to calm the tempest within me. My motions mirrored those of my mother, though my heart thrummed a chaotic rhythm against my ribcage.

"Abby," I said, offering the cup, my voice barely betraying the storm of emotions inside me.

Her fingers brushed mine as she accepted it, and for an instant, I wished we were anywhere but here. But those sparkling green eyes of hers held a resolve that fortified my own.

"Thank you," she whispered, her gaze never leaving mine.

Ma's voice cut through the moment, solemn and commanding as she handed Lily her own cup of tea. "You swear to uphold the Serpent's secrets, to bury them deeper than the ocean floor and guard them closer than your own breath. May your words be carefully chosen as threads woven on a loom, revealing nothing that would harm the family."

The weight of the oath hung heavy in the air. Abby's eyes flickered to mine once more, a silent promise passing between us before she looked away to face my mother and said, "Yes." A knot tightened in my gut, a complex tangle of pride and fear. She was about to become one of us, bound by blood and vow, and the finality of that thought sent a chill through me, even as warmth radiated off the bodies crowded in the underground chamber.

The scent of jasmine filled the air as Abby and Lily lifted their cups in unison. The delicate fragrance did little to mask the gravity of what this tea represented. My throat felt dry watching them, knowing that with each sip they took, their fates entwined more tightly with ours.

"Drink," Ma's voice commanded gently, yet it carried through the chamber like a decree.

I watched Abby's lips touch the rim of the cup, her eyes meeting mine over the porcelain edge. There was no hesitation in her movement, no faltering in her resolve. She sipped, the liquid a silent seal over her vows, and set the cup down with a soft clink against the stone altar.

"I swear," she whispered, her voice steady.

Lily mirrored her actions, the echo of her own oath blending seamlessly with Abby's. Their words were simple, but in the stillness of the underground chamber, they resonated with an undeniable power.

Ma nodded, her approval evident even in the sparse candlelight that flickered across her ageless face. She then spoke again, her tone imbued with the weight of tradition and expectation.

"You swear to uphold the Circle's honor, to guide its members with wisdom and a discerning heart. Justice tempered with compassion, that is the path we walk. May your voice be a beacon of reason, guiding the Circle towards a brighter future."

Their response came as a twin affirmation, "I swear," binding them to our world—a world where loyalty was currency and betrayal the gravest sin.

Ma then moved with a grace that belied her years, reaching for two slender candles on the altar. The match sparked to life in her fingers, a tiny flare in the shadows that soon gave birth to a steady flame. She touched it to the wicks, and they caught fire, the light dancing in Abby's eyes.

"You swear to support the Circle, to be the flame within the hearth," Ma intoned, her gaze sweeping over Abby and Lily as if to brand the words into their very souls. "We are the keepers of balance, the silent force that shapes the shadows. May your light empower the Circle to achieve its goals."

"I swear." Their voices were a chorus now, strong and sure, even as the rest of the room seemed to hush in reverence of the moment.

The flicker from the candles caught the sharp angles of Abby's face, throwing half of it into relief and the other into mystery. I could see the reflection of the small fires in her eyes, and something about the way she looked at me was an anchor and a tremor all at once.

I couldn't help but feel….fuck, I didn't know—pulled tight like a wire between pride and an edgy sort of fear. This was Abby like I'd never seen her before, transformed by oath and flame, becoming part of a world that was mine, and yet not. There was beauty in the ritual, in the ancient words and the silk of tradition, but beneath it all ran a current of danger, of secrets kept and promises that bound tighter than any chains.

She was swearing herself to me, not to the Serpents.

And that was dangerous.

Ma's voice cut through the silence that had settled over us, bringing me back from the tumult of thoughts.

"This is the final oath," she said, her tone solemn yet not without warmth. In her hands were two silk bracelets, red as a promise, delicate as trust. She handed one to me, the fabric smooth against my fingers, and took the other over to Lily.

"Come here, Abby," I murmured, stepping closer to her. Her eyes never left mine, even as I reached for her wrist, feeling the steady beat of her pulse beneath my fingertips. The bracelet felt like destiny as I tied it around her wrist, looping and knotting it into place.

"This bracelet marks your entry into the Circle. Wear it with honor," I said, my voice low, meant only for her ears amidst the watching crowd. "A symbol of your commitment and a reminder of the oaths you have sworn."

"Welcome, Abigail and Lily, to the Sisterhood of Vipers." My mom's voice rang out, clear and commanding, sealing the initiation.

Abby's hand was steady in mine, her gaze unwavering. There was something fierce in her, a strength that drew me, even as it warned me. This was no mere girl I held, but a woman who walked through fire and came out forged anew. My chest tightened as I realized this ceremony wasn't just about binding her to the Triad; it was reinforcing the bond between us, a tie that went beyond blood or duty.

"Thank you," she whispered, so softly I might have imagined it.

But I didn't. Because in that moment, everything else melted away—the Serpent's Den, the murmurs of the crowd, the weight of tradition—and there was only Abby. Only us.

And whatever the future held, we were in it together now, whether that made me a saint or a sinner in her eyes.