43. Chapter Forty-Three Nathan

Chapter Forty-Three: Nathan

T he stillness of the evening was punctuated only by the rustle of leaves as I tended to my plants, a rare moment of tranquility in a life otherwise dictated by chaos. Abby had left for dinner with Ma, leaving me to revel in the calm that so seldom graced our home. The quiet was unsettling but welcome—a solitary reprieve before the next storm.

A storm I knew would inevitably come.

My fingers worked methodically, pruning and watering with practiced ease, the simple routine a temporary balm for the restless energy that always simmered just beneath my skin. A flicker of movement caught my eye—the shadow of the monstera plant stretching across the floor as if reaching out to remind me that peace was merely an interlude in the symphony of our lives.

The serene moment shattered as my phone vibrated against the table, its insistent buzz slicing through the silence. I wiped my hands on my jeans and checked the caller ID.

It was Ba.

Shit.

"Ba?" I answered, trying to keep the edge from my voice.

"Nathan," he said, his tone clipped and urgent. "Come to the den. Now."

I hesitated, a thousand questions pressing against the back of my throat, but I knew better than to ask. When the Serpent summoned, you didn't question—you came.

"I'm on my way," I replied, already heading for the door.

The drive over to the den was a blur of streetlights and shadows, the city passing by in a wash of indifference. Anxiety gnawed at me, an unwelcome companion whispering sinister possibilities into my ear. What could Ba want that couldn't wait? My mind raced with scenarios, none of them good.

I pulled up to one of the many entrances to the tunnel network beneath Chinatown, the familiar sense of dread settling like lead in my gut. This place was a sanctuary for some, a tomb for others. As I parked and killed the engine, I sat for a moment, gathering my resolve. Whatever lay ahead, I needed to face it head-on, for Abby's sake if not my own.

With a deep breath, I pushed open the car door and stepped into the night, the cool air a stark juxtaposition to the heat that churned within me. My footsteps echoed hollowly as I approached the entrance, each step bringing me closer to the unknown.

"Keep it together, Nathan," I murmured to myself. "Just another meeting with Ba." But the words were a thin veil, and behind them lurked the truth.

In this life, nothing was ever just anything.

Once inside the musty, dimly lit corridor that led to the den, I pulled out my phone with a shaky hand. Texting Abby felt like trying to hold onto normalcy by a thread. "Going out for a bit," I tapped on the screen, hoping to reassure her without giving away the storm brewing inside me. My thumb hovered over the send button, then pressed down, releasing a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

Message not sent. Try again.

The words flashed up on my screen, and a spike of panic shot through me. I tried again, but no dice. The lack of signal in these tunnels was common knowledge, but tonight, it felt like a bad omen. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead as I pocketed the useless device.

"Calm down, Nathan," I told myself, pressing forward into the darkness. The weight of the earth above seemed to press down on me, suffocating in its finality.

The guards were stationed as usual, but tonight they stood motionless, like statues carved from stone. Six of them, lined up with military precision, their eyes following me as I passed. Something was off. They weren't any of the guys I knew—no nods of recognition, no muttered hellos—just silent sentinels guarding a threshold I wasn't sure I wanted to cross.

"Evening," I said, my voice sounding hollow in the silence. No response. Only the steady gaze of men I couldn't call allies.

The office door lay open, an unspoken invitation—or maybe a challenge. I hesitated at the threshold, taking in the scene. It looked the same as always, but the air felt charged, heavy with unspoken threats. Dark red still stained the floor where we'd had our meal after the initiation, Mengyao Sun's blood left behind like a trophy.

The Serpent was hunched over his desk as though the weight of our entire empire rested squarely on his shoulders. The map I'd seen earlier still lay sprawled out before him, now marred with new markings—X's and circles scrawled in red ink that seemed to pulse with urgency.

"Ba," I greeted cautiously, stepping into the room.

"Sit down, Nathan," he said without looking up, his voice gravelly, like the grind of earth during a landslide.

I pulled out the chair across from him and sat, my heart thumping a rhythm of dread against my ribs. Silence hung between us, filled only by the scratch of his pen as he marked another location with a heavy X.

Kenny finally set the pen down and locked eyes with me. His gaze had always been sharp, but tonight it cut through me, probing for weaknesses. He pushed away from the desk and stood, moving toward an aged mahogany cabinet.

"Your mother says Abigail is adjusting well to her vows?" he asked, his tone light, almost playful, but there was no warmth in his eyes.

"Yes," I answered, confusion tightening my chest. It wasn't like him to make small talk, especially not now, with tension coiling in the air like a viper ready to strike.

He opened the cabinet and rummaged briefly before pulling out a knife. The blade caught the dim light, glinting ominously. He turned to face me, the knife held casually at his side. My mouth went dry, the hum of blood in my ears drowning out all other sound.

"Something on your mind, Ba?" I managed to say, forcing steadiness into my voice I didn't feel.

The Serpent's lips twitched into a semblance of a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You're sharper than I give you credit for, Nathan," he said, weighing the knife in his hand as though it were no more than a paperweight. "I fear I may have underestimated you."

My fingers gripped the arms of the chair, knuckles whitening. "What are you talking about?" I asked, my pulse hammering in my throat.

"Betrayal," he stated plainly, as if discussing the weather. "You think it's Alex stirring the pot, but it's not that simple." He paused, and his gaze bore into me. "It might be someone else. Someone closer."

The words hung between us, a silent accusation echoing off the walls. Fear twisted inside me, its icy tendrils wrapping around my spine. My father, the man who had taught me everything about loyalty and family, was suggesting treason within our own ranks. The idea was almost too much to bear.

"Who?" The single word came out strangled, barely more than a whisper.

"Family is complex, Nathan," Kenny said, setting the knife down on the desk with deliberate care. "Sometimes the ones closest to you are the ones you should watch the most."

"Who do you suspect?" My voice was a ragged edge, betraying the turmoil that his insinuation had churned up inside me.

"Maybe it's Justin..." Ba's words rolled out slowly, each one measured and heavy with implication. "...or maybe even Lily."

"Justin? Lily?" I shook my head, incredulity sharpening my tone to a point. "That's absurd."

"Is it?" The Serpent arched an eyebrow, his gaze unyielding. "All my children are of the Serpent's bloodline, Nathan. Each one born into our world of shadows and secrets. It makes them...malleable. Capable of deception."

I couldn't contain the scoff, the idea so outlandish yet spoken with such eerie conviction. "They're your kids, Ba."

"Exactly," he said with a nod, as if I'd made his point for him. "And what about Abby? We've welcomed her into our fold, but she's still an unknown variable."

"Abby has nothing to do with this," I countered quickly, the protective instinct flaring hot within me.

"Perhaps," he continued, undeterred. "But maybe we should have a more...thorough conversation with them. Down in the basement, where truths tend to surface more freely."

That…no. I couldn't take that.

"Stay the fuck away from my family," I erupted, the words a snarl as my fists slammed down onto the desk with enough force to rattle the lamp. It was a line drawn, a boundary set. I was on my feet without even knowing how I'd gotten there, locking eyes with the man who'd spent years terrorizing me.

Ba's reaction wasn't anger; it was amusement, a low chuckle rumbling from his throat as he sat down and leaned back in his chair. "There it is," he said, his eyes briefly flicking over my shoulder. "The weapon I created from a scared, helpless boy."

His laughter held no warmth—it was the sound of a snake amused by the defiance of its prey. I followed his gaze and there, looming just inside the doorway, stood one of the bodyguards. He was a mountain of a man, his presence silent but palpable. I didn't recognize him, which only dialed up my unease.

Turning back to face Ba, I saw it then—a glint of steel as he placed a knife on the desk. It was deliberate, calculated.

A test.

My breath hitched slightly, though I willed my hands not to shake. The knife lay there, cold and still between us, a promise of violence. I could almost feel the weight of the blade in my hand, the imagined sensation of plunging it into the heart of the sociopath before me.

But I didn't move. The knife might as well have been a thousand miles away. I was caught, suspended in a moment where every choice seemed to lead to ruin. The Serpent watched me, his eyes narrowed, waiting to see if its fangs had venom.

He slid a folded piece of paper across the desk, pushing it closer to me with the tip of his finger. "I found Alex," Ba said, his voice flat. "But now, Nathan, I have questions about you."

Questions about me? My heart slammed against my ribs as I unfolded the paper and stared at the address scrawled there in his tight, angular handwriting.

"Here's what you'll do," he continued, tapping the knife handle with an air of casualness that only magnified the dread coiling inside me. "You'll take this knife, go to that address, and put it in your brother's heart."

My mouth went dry, the words sticking in my throat. Why did I feel like I was hearing my own death sentence? "Why haven't you taken care of him yourself?" I managed to force the question out, though each syllable tasted of fear.

Ba leaned back, steepling his fingers. A shiver ran through me; it was a posture reserved for when he was most pleased with himself. "Because, Nathan," he said, and it seemed like the shadows in the room gathered around him even tighter, "it's an opportunity—a test of your loyalty."

A test of my loyalty. The phrase echoed in my head, mocking me. My loyalty had never been for the Serpent, but for my family, for the organization I'd come up in that had given us power.

Now, he was asking me to stain my hands with blood to prove allegiance to his madness.

Swallowing hard, I looked down at the knife again, its blade reflecting cold light. It wasn't just a weapon; it was a shackle, one that would bind me to him forever if I complied.

But how could I not, when my family's safety hung in the balance?

"Fine," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Inside, something screamed at the lie, but it was a scream no one would hear—not even me.

I straightened up, my hand reaching for the knife with a reluctance that felt like wading through quicksand. The metal was cold against my skin, an ominous weight as I wrapped my fingers around the handle. With every fiber of my being, I wanted to turn the blade on him, to end this twisted game he played with people's lives.

But Abby's face flashed in my mind, her eyes wide with fear and trust as she had clung to me, after I pulled Lou out of the fire at the Red Lantern. She had begged me not to put myself at risk again…and it was only fair that we do that for each other.

She was my anchor, the reason I couldn't let myself be swallowed by the darkness that threatened to engulf me now.

For her, I would walk through hell and back.

"Does it come with a sheath?" My voice was calm, belying the storm wreaking havoc inside me. "I can't exactly carry it out in the open."

Ba's lips curled into a smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. He turned, moving to the cabinet again, and rummaged through it for a moment before producing a sleek, black sheath. As he handed it over, our fingers brushed, and I felt the bile rise in my throat at the casualness of it all.

"Thank you," I murmured, sliding the blade into its new home. It was an odd comfort, knowing the weapon was secured, hidden from view, just as I kept my true feelings shrouded from the man who called himself my father.

The sheathed knife went into my pocket, a weighty reminder of the task ahead—a task that was monstrous, but necessary. Necessary to keep Abby safe, to protect the life we were trying to build amidst the chaos my father seemed determined to sow.

Ba leaned back against the edge of his desk, arms folded across his chest in a way that suggested ease, but I knew better. His eyes were sharp, calculating, as he watched me, waiting for my response.

"Once you've dealt with Alex," he continued, "we'll sit down and discuss our next move. These arsonists think they can burn us out, but we'll smoke them out first."

My hand instinctively clenched around the knife in my pocket.

"And Abby?" I asked, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. It was always about Abby. Always her safety that hung in the balance, a delicate thread I clung to.

"Keep your end of the deal, and she'll be fine." Ba's gaze hardened like the steel of the blade he had just given me. "But if you fail, or if you betray me...well, let's just say I'll have to take more drastic measures."

The implicit threat hung between us, a noose tightening around my neck. I couldn't fail, not when Abby's safety was on the line.

But how far was I willing to go?

How much of myself was I willing to sacrifice?

"Understood," I said, my voice void of emotion. I needed him to believe in my compliance, in the facade I had carefully constructed.

"Good." Ba nodded once, a sign of dismissal. "Don't disappoint me, Nathan."

I didn't trust myself to speak further, so I simply turned and walked out of the office, past the silent guards who might as well have been statues for all the life they showed. Each step felt heavier than the last, each breath a little shallower, as I made my way through the winding tunnels back to the world above—a world where Abby awaited, where my heart lay.

The den behind me felt like a tomb, cold and unyielding. And as I emerged into the night, the sheathed knife pressing against my side was a constant reminder of the choice I faced.

Loyalty to blood or loyalty to love.