38. Chapter Thirty-Eight Abby

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Abby

W e trailed into the other room, a space that hummed with the promise of a feast. The long table at the Serpent's Den stood ready for dinner, and my senses were assaulted by the rich tapestry of scents—garlic, ginger, cardamom—that filled the air. Steam curled lazily from the dishes arrayed on a separate table against the wall, and I couldn't help but appreciate the culinary artistry.

"Come on," Lily whispered to me, her voice barely masking the excitement over the spread before us. We wove through the cluster of women, some reaching out to caress the embroidered cloths or adjust the sparkling silverware with practiced hands.

"Remember, we're here to play our parts," I murmured back, my gaze lingering on the lacquered roast duck, its skin glistening under the warm light, while mentally I was calculating exits, memorizing faces.

The men filtered in soon after, a cavalcade of dark suits and hushed power. Their voices swelled as they took their seats, filling the room with an undercurrent of authority and expectation. Evelyn, with a grace that belied her years, moved to our side and leaned in close.

"Abby, Lily, you'll serve them their dinner," she instructed, her eyes scanning the room with an acuteness that spoke volumes of her unspoken influence in this clandestine world.

Lily's face fell, her brow furrowed. "This is–"

"What we talked about," I said, flashing Evelyn a smile. "Come on."

Evelyn returned my smile with one of her own, a knowing spark in her eyes. "Abby," she whispered, as the two of us set down plates like offerings before the gathered men, "we should have dinner soon, just you and me."

I nodded subtly, placing a steamed bun onto the plate of the man at the head of the table, his presence commanding even in silence. Kenny–my future father-in-law, the man I despised more than anyone else in the world–barely even acknowledged me. "I'd like that. There's a lot I need to learn about joining the Sisterhood of Vipers," I said, keeping my voice low.

"Good," Evelyn replied, her tone carrying an edge that suggested there was more at stake than mere companionship. "It's not just about supporting our men. It's about strength, survival...and secrets."

I felt a chill at the mention of secrets, but masked it with a practiced ease. The Sisterhood of Vipers—a network within shadows, where the women of the Triad wielded their own form of power. I'd never even heard of them–of us, I guessed–so that meant they were beyond even the FBI's reach. To be part of it meant access, influence, and perhaps the key to bringing this empire of crime to its knees.

"Strength and secrets," I echoed, meeting her gaze for a moment longer before turning away to continue serving. As I did, I could feel the weight of the task ahead, the danger lurking beneath every polite smile and behind every toast raised.

Tonight, I was playing a role, but tomorrow, the real performance would begin.

I moved through the throng, a quiet observer among the opulence and veiled threats. The murmur of Mandarin filled the air around me, the soft cadence of women's voices humming quietly over the business talk of the men. I caught snippets of gossip about mahjong gatherings and upcoming weddings, which surprised me. I thought there would be more criminal underpinnings to their dialogue–but there weren't. This was just gossip.

Their laughter, tinged with camaraderie, surprised me. Here, in the heart of a Triad den, life went on, woven with threads of normalcy and tradition. They talked of bonds and simple joys, while outside these walls, their loved ones commanded fear and respect through less savory means.

I played dumb as I eavesdropped on their conversations, watching the expressions on their faces. Faces of mothers, daughters, sisters—each carrying their own burdens silently, their stoicism a testament to the lives they led beside dangerous men.

After the last man had been served, the women finally approached the banquet table, delicately filling their plates with succulent dumplings, crispy Peking duck, and aromatic jasmine rice. It was only then that I allowed myself to join Nathan at the table.

Nathan sat there like a dark prince among thieves, his presence undeniable. With his left hand, he absentmindedly traced the outline of the dragon tattoo hidden beneath the fabric of his shirt, a symbol of his power and heritage. His brown eyes met mine, a silent conversation passing between us—a mix of concern and an unspoken promise to protect.

"Sit," he said simply, and I took the seat beside him.

My gaze wandered once more, seeking out familiar faces. There were few, but one stood out–Knuckles leaned against the door frame, his eyes scanning the room with calculated precision. His face was impassive, but I knew underneath lay ambition and a history entangled with betrayal. I still suspected he had something to do with the fires, but now wasn't the time for accusations.

I could feel the tension in the air, thick as the incense that curled from the burners set at each corner of the room. This was a gathering of serpents, each one smiling while hiding their fangs. And tonight, I was one of them, playing a dangerous game of my own within the serpent's lair.

The lavish spread of food before us seemed incongruent with the undercurrents of danger that flowed through the room. Nathan's hand found mine under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I turned to him, meeting his gaze. His voice was a low whisper, just for me.

"You did well," he said, his eyes softening for a moment in the dim light. The corner of my mouth lifted in a small, appreciative smile, and he mirrored it with one of his own.

We turned our attention back to the feast laid out on the long table. The clinking of fine china and the murmur of conversation became the soundtrack as we began to eat. I took small bites, my mind still racing, even as I savored the delicious flavors dancing on my tongue. These women may have been criminal accomplices…but damn , could they cook.

Around me, discussion ebbed and flowed. Bits and pieces of business talk floated to my ears, but they were quickly overshadowed by more personal exchanges—stories of children growing too fast, of wives demanding more time away from the life. Laughter punctuated the tales of familial antics, and I realized these hardened criminals were also fathers, uncles, brothers.

Listening intently, I gathered fragments of lives lived in the shadows, an intricate web of connections and loyalties. The realization hit me like a brick; these serpents hailed from all over—Los Angeles, Sacramento, some even from as far north as Seattle. It made sense. Power in the criminal world wasn't just local; it was a sprawling network, reaching into every dark corner of the West Coast. We had thought the Serpents were isolated to San Francisco, but they'd spread out up and down the Pacific.

This wasn't a snake…it was a hydra. And even if we cut off the head, a new one would grow in its place.

I pushed the food around on my plate, my appetite waning despite the delicious fare. My thoughts were a whirlwind, each one a piece of the puzzle I was here to solve. As an agent, I had to remain vigilant, to watch and listen, always ready to strike when the opportunity presented itself. But tonight, all I could do was play the part of the newest member of their ranks and hope that I would live to see another day.

The clinking of glass against metal pierced through the cacophony of voices, calling for attention. I sought out the source and found Kenny standing, his wine glass held aloft with a practiced ease that spoke of his authority. Silence spread like a contagion; conversations dwindled as every pair of eyes in the room turned towards him.

"Times have been tough," he began in English, his voice resonating with a gravitas that commanded the room. "But we're still here, stronger than ever. And tonight," his gaze swept across the faces before settling on me, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "we celebrate not just survival, but growth."

I tensed under his scrutiny, feeling the weight of his stare like a physical touch. I could sense the expectation hanging thick in the air, the unspoken demand for my gratitude, my loyalty—my soul, if it came to that.

"Let's raise our glasses to these two remarkable women who've joined our ranks. My daughter and my soon-to-be daughter-in-law," Kenny continued, his expression one of genuine pleasure that mingled jarringly with the darkness I knew lurked beneath. "A new chapter begins, a sign of the prosperity that awaits us."

His smile widened, reaching his eyes in what seemed like a rare moment of openness. But when his gaze locked onto mine, my skin crawled as if a thousand ants marched over my flesh. I could almost feel his thoughts wrapping around me, probing for weakness, for any hint of the betrayal I harbored within my chest.

"Here's to Abby and Lily," Kenny proclaimed, his voice lifting in a toast. "To the bright future ahead!"

A chorus of approval rose from the gathered crowd, glasses clinking in unison. I lifted my own in a gesture of feigned solidarity, my hand steady despite the turmoil raging inside.

But as I sipped the wine, the rich liquid leaving a bitter trail down my throat, I couldn't help but wonder how long I'd be able to keep up this charade before the curtain fell and my real act began.

"However," Kenny's voice cut through the merriment, sharp as a blade against silk, "before we indulge in visions of grandeur, there's an unpleasant task at hand." The jovial atmosphere crumbled like dry earth. "We must purge the parasites from our midst."

Cold dread snaked up my spine, and I stiffened. Nathan's grip on my thigh turned ironclad, his brown eyes smoldering embers ready to ignite. He was dangerous, lethal even–but we were outnumbered here.

If anything happened, we were both dead.

I chanced a glance around the dimly lit cavern of the Serpent's Den, its walls whispering secrets of the countless dealings they had witnessed. The air felt thick, charged with an ominous energy that clung to my skin, heavy as wet wool. Every nerve in my body screamed caution, but it was too late to retreat.

Nathan's muscles tensed beside me, a silent promise that he would unleash hell if Kenny pointed his finger at me. Nathan would kill for me. I knew that without question.

My gaze flitted to Knuckles, who stood a silent sentinel near the door. His posture was rigid, the lines of his face etched with tension. When his hand brushed the gun at his hip—an involuntary twitch or a deliberate warning?—my breath caught. He'd been stoic this whole time, playing the part of Kenny's righthand man and bodyguard…but something had shifted.

Was there any chance he would help us? Would self-preservation drive him to act against Kenny?

Or was he merely another serpent waiting to strike?

"Remember," Kenny's voice sliced through the haze of my thoughts, a steel trap snapping shut, "loyalty is everything."

It was like the air was sucked out of the room.

The tense silence was shattered as Kenny's finger jutted out like an accusatory dagger, piercing the veil of nervous anticipation–not at me, but across the table.

"Sun Mengyao of San Diego," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of a final verdict. "You have betrayed the Serpents."

I turned my head slightly to catch a glimpse of the accused. She was a quiet woman, her presence up till now almost ethereal. Mengyao's eyes darted from face to face, the color draining from her features. Beside her, the man I presumed to be her husband registered the shock first with a gasp, his face twisting into an expression of disbelief and horror. His mouth opened, but no words emerged—only the sound of a life unraveling at the seams.

"Seize her," Kenny's command sparked immediate action among his men, who surged forward with predatory efficiency.

But Mengyao clearly wasn't resigned to her fate. With a sudden burst of desperation, she bolted up from her chair, her hand plunging into the pleats of her dress. The glint of metal flashed as she pulled a knife from its concealed pocket—an act of defiance, a refusal to be taken without a fight.

The room erupted into chaos. Chairs scraped against the floor, voices raised in alarm, and bodies moved in a frenzied dance of survival. Yet throughout it all, I remained frozen, Nathan's grip a constant reminder that any false move on my part could spell disaster.

We both stayed put, watching as she held the knife out toward anyone who came close to her. She was desperate, terrified–rightly so–but I felt a kind of kinship with her as a fellow viper, the women who worked in the shadows. For a moment, our eyes met across the room, and I saw a flicker of something—resolve, fear, determination.

"Careful, Abby," Nathan whispered, his voice a low rumble against my ear. "Don't let them see what you're thinking."

I nodded, schooling my features into an expression of shock that mirrored those around me. Inside, I was anything but composed. Beneath the surface, my mind churned, already calculating the implications of tonight's events and how they would affect our cause. Mengyao was screaming at Kenny's guards to get away as if she was terrified…but her eyes narrowed, then, and she looked straight at Kenny before launching herself onto the table.

The sharp sound of a chair scraping against the floor jolted me back to reality, and my gaze snapped to Knuckles as he lunged forward with predatory precision. The glint of steel in his hand caught the dim light, a blade drawn with a lethal grace that chilled my blood.

He moved faster than she did. In her dress, she was too slow, too clumsy.

Before anyone could react, the edge of the knife whispered across Mengyao's throat. A crimson line bloomed on her yellow dress, stark against the pale fabric. It happened so fast, a nightmare unfolding in the time it took for a heart to beat once, hard, in a chest.

Lily's scream pierced the sudden silence, raw and terrified. Evelyn, her face a mask of forced calm, reached out to cover Lily's eyes, protecting her from the brutal reality their family business entailed. Blood spilled on the decadent spread we'd been feasting on just minutes earlier, splattering a few of the people sitting near Mengyao as well.

Nathan's grip on me tightened, an unspoken command to remain still. His touch was like iron bands, preventing any movement, any protest. I could feel the tension radiating from him, controlled fury at the display. But his face remained impassive, a stone mask that revealed nothing of his inner thoughts.

He'd practiced this; seen too much, had to endure too much .

I didn't move, didn't flinch—at least not until I felt Kenny's eyes on me. He watched us all, gauging our reactions with the calculating gaze of a serpent studying its prey. My heart pounded as I met his stare, knowing full well what he sought in my expression.

Feigning horror, I let out a gasp, my hands flying up to cover my mouth, mirroring the shock I should have felt. It was a performance worthy of an award, but in this den of vipers, it was survival. Inwardly, I cursed myself for needing to act, for not feeling the revulsion that the scene warranted.

But I was an FBI agent planted deep undercover, emotions buried beneath layers of deceit. This was my world now and I knew I had to play my part flawlessly. I was shocked–really, as far as I knew, this kind middle-aged woman was completely innocent.

I completely believed that Mengyao was just a victim of Kenny's wrath.

As Mengyao's body hit the floor, my resolve hardened. I would end this, bring down the Golden Serpents from within, even if it meant staining my soul in the process.

"Shocked, Abby?" Nathan's voice was barely audible, a murmur meant only for me. He gave me a look that almost suggested he was amused, playing his own part: the battle-hardened heir to the San Francisco Serpents.

"Terrified," I whispered back, letting the lie roll off my tongue as easily as the truth used to.

"Good," he replied, his breath warm against my ear. "That'll keep you alive."

In that moment, surrounded by the macabre tableau of the Serpent's Den, I clung to those words, a lifeline in a sea of darkness. And as Kenny's smile lingered on me, promising retribution and pain for those who dared defy him, I focused on the task at hand.

Survive. Observe. Dismantle.

The mantra ran through my head, a silent chant that fortified my resolve. I would see this through, no matter the cost.

And I would get Nathan out of this life if it was the last fucking thing I did.

The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on, and I forced myself to maintain a calm facade as chaos erupted. The man who had been at Mengyao's side moments before made a break for it, panic etched deep into the lines of his face. But Kenny's men were swift—like striking serpents, they caught him by his arms, hauling him back to his chair with a thud that echoed off the walls.

"Sit down, and don't make me repeat myself," one of the guards growled, pushing the man's shoulders down until he submitted. They forced him to sit there and look at his dead wife for a moment, blood trickling off the table and into his lap.

Kenny, ever the unfazed puppet master, simply picked up his glass off the lavish mahogany table, swirling his wine with an air of detachment as though nothing out of the ordinary had transpired. He took a leisurely sip, savoring it, while Mengyao's body was unceremoniously dragged away, a trail of thick, viscous blood left on the floor behind her.

I felt something primal within me stir, a desire to leap across the table and end this now, but I couldn't.

Not yet.

Soon, I promised myself.

Evelyn broke the unbearable silence, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a storm of emotion. "Why, Kenny? Why now, in front of everyone?"

He set his glass down with deliberate slowness, the clink of crystal against wood piercing the quiet. His gaze swept over the rest of us—some wide-eyed with fear, others numb to the violence—and finally settled on me, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"It's a lesson, my dear," Kenny replied, his tone almost fatherly. "An example of what happens to those who betray the Serpents." His eyes locked onto mine, and the smile widened, a silent challenge. "Isn't that right, Abby?"

It took everything in me not to recoil from his gaze, to keep my breathing steady and my hands from shaking. I nodded, offering a tight-lipped smile in return.

"Absolutely, Mr. Zhou," I said, my voice betraying none of the loathing churning inside me. "A valuable lesson indeed."

His smile told me he was pleased, and I hated myself for giving him even that small satisfaction. But it was necessary, all part of the game I was playing—the game I had to win.

As the meeting continued, I focused on memorizing faces, noting exits, counting guards. I was already formulating my report for the Bureau, every detail a potential key to dismantling Kenny's empire.

And through it all, I kept the image of Mengyao's fallen form in my mind, a grim reminder of the stakes. This wasn't just about taking down a criminal organization anymore—it was personal. For Mengyao. For all the others who suffered at the hands of the Golden Serpents.

For Nathan Zhou, when he was a child.

For his siblings.

For me.

I was going to kill this fucking man. And I was going to make it hurt.