46. Chapter Forty-Six Nathan

Chapter Forty-Six: Nathan

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

My head was a storm of disbelief and betrayal, each revelation Abby spilled hitting me like a punch to the gut. My mother and the Triad wives were behind the fires, the ones that had been licking at our heels for months. But worse, my own mother—sweet Ma who could do no wrong—had been carrying on with Knuckles behind Ba's back.

And Justin...my little brother wasn't full blood.

"I'm sorry I had to tell you right on the tail end of your dad ordering you to kill Alex, but…we have this policy of full honesty…"

"No, I'm glad you did," I interrupted. "I just…damn. This is a lot."

"Have you eaten anything?" Abby's voice cut through the fog of my thoughts.

I realized I hadn't felt hunger in hours, maybe longer. "No," I muttered, the word barely slipping past the tightness in my throat.

"Let me make you something." She was already moving toward the fridge, her movements sure, a stark contrast to the chaos tumbling in my mind. "Grilled cheese and tomato soup okay?"

"Sounds good," I managed to say, grateful for her thoughtfulness amidst the wreckage of tonight's truths.

I slumped down at the kitchen island, elbows propped up, head hanging low. I could hear the sizzle of butter on the pan, the comforting aroma began to fill the space, but it couldn't chase away the cold realization nesting in my heart. Ma and Knuckles, an affair spanning decades—how could she?

My father was a monster—we all knew that—but it still hurt. That was a betrayal that ran deep.

"Knuckles was always around, you know?" I said, my voice hoarse with a cocktail of emotions and the whiskey that had burnt its way down my throat earlier. "Ba was away so much when we were kids. But Knuckles...he never looked twice at Ma, not that I ever saw."

Abby paused by the stove, the spatula in her hand momentarily still. "Sometimes the things we don't see are the most profound. They must have been very good at hiding it. But from what your mom told me, they really care about each other."

The thought twisted in my gut. Ma with Knuckles? It made sense, and yet it was difficult to swallow. I tried to picture what life might be like if Knuckles stepped up, took charge with Ma by his side. He wasn't like Ba, all cold orders and iron fists. Knuckles had something resembling a heart beating in his chest. And Ma, she was strong, smarter than any of them gave her credit for.

"Things could be better," I murmured, half to myself. "If they ran the show, maybe the Serpents wouldn't have to be so..." I trailed off, unable to find the right word.

"Ruthless?" Abby offered, flipping the grilled cheese with practiced ease.

"Yeah." I nodded, though I knew that wasn't the full extent of it. "But then there's Ba's order." The words tasted bitter on my tongue. "Wants me to take out Alex. As if I didn't have enough family drama to deal with."

"Kenny's a snake," Abby said flatly. "And not the kind you want leading. You're different, Nathan. You've got a choice here."

I wanted to believe her, wanted to think that there was a path where I didn't have to follow through with Kenny's twisted test. But deep down, I knew we were running out of time.

I just didn't know how much we had left.

"Maybe we should warn Alex," Abby suggested, her voice barely above the sizzle of butter in the pan. "Give him a head's up."

"No." I shook my head, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. "That's exactly what Ba would expect. It's part of his game."

Abby glanced over her shoulder, her eyes searching mine. "How soon does he want it done?"

"Yesterday," I replied grimly. "And he made it clear that if I don't...you, Justin, and Lily are in the crosshairs too."

A silence fell between us, as heavy as the night outside. The thought of them being threatened because of me twisted my gut into knots. I couldn't let anything happen to them.

The clink of the spatula against the skillet broke the hush, and Abby slid two golden-brown sandwiches onto a plate along with a steaming bowl of tomato soup. She brought it over to where I sat at the counter, and without a word, pushed it across to me.

"Thanks," I muttered, though my throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper.

I picked up half a sandwich and took a bite, but the flavor might as well have been ash for all I could taste. My mind was elsewhere—on Ba, on Knuckles, on the impossible choices that lay ahead. Even the warmth of the soup as I spooned it into my mouth did nothing to ease the chill that had taken up residence in my bones.

"Are you okay?" Abby's voice pierced the heavy silence that had settled between us, her question hanging in the air like the scent of smoke.

I let out a hollow laugh, the sound more bitter than amused. "Am I okay? Just found out my mother has been having an affair with my father's right hand man behind my father's back for years, that Justin is only my half-brother. Oh, and let's not forget that everyone seems to want my father dead—except my father, who wants my brother dead." My fingers drummed anxiously against the cool surface of the kitchen island. "So yeah, I'm absolutely fine."

Abby's laughter mingled with mine, but there was no joy in it—just the absurd recognition of how messed up everything was. She reached across the counter, her hand closing around the handle of a knife Ba had given me. It lay between us like a reminder, its ornate handle carved with the image of a dragon, its golden scales shimmering under the kitchen lights.

"Does this mean something?" she asked, turning the knife over in her hands, examining the intricate design. Her brows furrowed slightly as she waited for me to explain.

"Dragons," I started, my voice steadier than I felt, "are protectors of the family. At least, that's the story Ba used to tell me." I looked at the knife, at the dragon that seemed to guard us from its golden perch. "But sometimes, I think he sees me more like...like a weapon. Just another thing to be used."

Abby was quiet for a moment, the soft hiss of the grilled cheese in the pan the only sound in the kitchen. Then she set the knife down with care and came around the table. Her hands found my waist, drawing me out of the cold thoughts swirling inside my head.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice pulling me back to the present. She leaned forward to kiss my temple, her lips a brief warmth against my skin. "You're so much more than that. We both know it. And once we figure this out, we'll see how much more you—and the Serpents—can be."

Her words were a lifeline, something solid in the midst of chaos. I wanted to believe her, to believe that there was more to me than the violence and the lies, more to us than the tangled webs of the Triad. Abby always saw the best in me, even when I couldn't, and for a moment, I let myself lean into that hope, into the promise of what we could become together.

I turned around and pulled her in, my knees finding a spot on either side of her hips, drawing us close. We rested our foreheads together, breathing deeply in the shared silence. Her scent enveloped me, a gentle reminder of the world beyond the dark one I was entangled in.

"Abby," I started, my voice barely above a whisper, "I'm so grateful for you." The emotion was thick in my throat, gratitude mingling with a hundred other tangled feelings. "No matter what happens, we'll do everything we can to stay together."

Her eyes met mine, steady and sure. "We'd better," she said, her tone light but her meaning clear. "We've been through too much not to." Her words were a vow, a quiet assertion that whatever lay ahead, it wouldn't tear us apart.

The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, but time seemed irrelevant. Here, in this moment, with Abby's hands gripping mine and her gaze holding mine, everything else fell away.

It was just us, and the hell to come tomorrow.