47. Chapter Forty-Seven Nathan

Chapter Forty-Seven: Nathan

T he shrill ring of my phone clawed me out of sleep, dragging both Abby and me from the grasp of a restless slumber. We had crashed on the couch, records of our marathon conversation scattered around us like the aftermath of a storm. My hand fumbled across the coffee table, knocking over an empty whiskey tumbler before it finally closed around the vibrating nuisance.

"Who is it?" Abby mumbled, her voice thick with sleep as she buried her face deeper into the cushion.

I squinted at the bright screen—Lily's name flashed urgently. An icy trickle of dread slid down my spine.

It was too early for good news.

"Lily?" I croaked, trying to shake the fog of sleep from my voice.

"Nathan, oh my god," Lily's voice was a frantic whisper, "there was this woman here, just now. Said she was FBI."

"Slow down," I said, my heart starting to race. "What did she want?"

"Questions about you, about Abby, and someone named Tyler Matthews." The fear in her voice was a living thing, and it fed my own. "Nathan, are we in trouble? Are we going to prison?"

My mind reeled, piecing together the nightmare that was our life. This had to be Ba's doing, another move in his twisted game. But I couldn't think about that now—not with Lily sounding like she was one breath away from losing it.

"Hey, listen to me," I said, my voice firm despite the tremor I felt inside. "Just stay put and lock your doors, okay? I'll figure this out."

"Okay," she breathed, but the word trembled like a leaf in a storm.

"Stay safe," I added before hanging up, the weight of our family's sins heavy on my shoulders. Abby watched me, her eyes wide and searching, a silent question etched on her face.

"Something's wrong," I said, already dialing Justin's number to make sure he hadn't been contacted as well.

"Wrong? What do you mean?" Abby's voice was thick with sleep and concern, her brow furrowed as she propped herself up.

"Someone from the FBI just showed up at Lily's place," I explained, my fingers fumbling to call Justin. "Asking about us...and Tyler Matthews."

Abby went pale, eyes wide. We didn't need to discuss it any further—we both knew whose body was slowly decomposing in the basement.

The phone rang in my ear, a shrill sound in the too-quiet room. I tried to steady my breathing, to prepare for anything Justin might say—or not say if he didn't pick up. Abby reached out, her hand finding mine.

"Come on, pick up," I muttered under my breath, the incessant ringing feeling like a countdown to something terrible. But there was no answer, only the indifferent beep of voicemail greeting me with its mechanical tone. "Damn it."

"Is he not answering?" Abby scooted closer, her warmth a stark contrast to the chill of dread that had settled in my bones.

"No, nothing." I hit the end call button, a knot of worry forming tight in my gut. Justin was always glued to his phone, always reachable. This silence wasn't like him, and every second that ticked by increased the sense of impending doom that clouded the air.

Suddenly, I wondered if Ba had already sent people after Justin…if his men were closing in, slaughtering him in his sleep.

And I guessed Abby could see the worry threatening to overwhelm me.

"Let's just go to his place," Abby suggested, reading the panic in my eyes. She was calm, collected, where I was a storm of nerves.

"I don't know where he lives," I admitted, hating the helplessness that crept into my tone.

Abby grinned, a slice of normalcy in the midst of chaos. "I do. He and Derek wanted a wedding invitation so he put his address in my phone—you're welcome."

"Right…the wedding." I silently thanked whatever god there was for how she'd connected with my siblings; if she hadn't, I wouldn't be able to find my own brother.

"Get dressed," she said with a confidence that made me believe we might actually make it through this. "We're going now."

"Okay." I took a deep breath, trying to push back the fear.

We were doing this.

Minutes later, we were in the car and getting Justin's address plugged into navigation, Abby giving me directions from the passenger seat.

"Justin's place is close," Abby said, glancing at the GPS on her phone as I revved the engine and peeled out of our driveway.

My heart hammered against my ribcage, each thud echoing the fear that gnawed at my insides. I should've been there for them, should've seen this coming. But all I could do now was try to fix things before it was too late.

"Keep an eye out for tails," I told Abby, scanning the rearview mirror for any sign of the cops or worse—Ba's guys.

"Nothing yet," she replied, her voice steady despite the situation. "Just focus on getting us there, Nathan."

Her calmness grounded me, gave me something to hold onto as my mind raced with possibilities of what could be waiting for us. When we reached Justin's apartment building, the car skidded slightly as I hit the brakes harder than necessary.

"Apartment number?" The urgency made my voice sharper than I intended.

"Two-eighteen, second floor," Abby said, climbing out of the car right behind me.

I bolted toward the stairs, taking them two at a time, dread pounding in sync with my footsteps. Reaching the door marked 218, I raised my fist and knocked hard, the sound echoing down the hall.

"Come on, Justin," I murmured, fear knotting in my stomach when there was no answer.

"Wait, Nathan!" Abby's hand grabbed my arm just as I was about to turn my frustration into a kick against the door. Her grip was firm but gentle, stopping me from making a decision I'd regret.

"Give him a second," she whispered.

As if on cue, the lock clicked and the door swung open, revealing my brother's confused face.

"Justin," I breathed out, relief momentarily washing over me before reality set back in.

We weren't safe yet—not by a long shot.

"Justin," I managed to say again, struggling to find the right words. His gaze shifted from confusion to concern as he took in my expression.

"Hey, big brother," he said groggily—then more alert when he saw the expression on my face, "What the hell is going on?"

I could feel the weight of everything threatening to spill out—the secrets, the lies, the danger we were all in—but I couldn't bring myself to unload it all on him right there in the doorway. My mouth opened and closed, but nothing coherent came out.

"Can we come in?" Abby interjected smoothly, her hand still resting lightly on my arm. She always knew how to step in when I was too tangled up inside my own head.

"Uh, yeah, of course." Justin stepped aside, scratching the back of his neck as he allowed us entry into his space.

"Hey Derek," Justin called back without turning his head, "can you start a pot of coffee? We've got company."

"Sure thing!" came a muffled response from somewhere inside.

I stepped into Justin's apartment and was immediately struck by how homey it felt. The walls were adorned with art that seemed to reflect personal memories rather than chosen for design. A collection of vibrant potted plants breathed life into the space, and the furniture looked lived-in, comfortable. The whole domestic bliss vibe was completed by an overweight tabby that purred as it walked in lazy circles around Justin's legs, a bell jingling on its collar.

It was cozy, really cute—a sharp contrast to the sterile environment I associated with my own place, or the picture perfect home we'd been raised in.

A pang of regret hit me hard. I didn't know my brother at all. It took a crisis of this magnitude to bring me here, and it stung that I had to learn his address from Abby, not from him.

"Sit down, guys," Justin gestured to an inviting sofa surrounded by bookshelves filled with an eclectic mix of literature and knick-knacks. "Abby, I hope you like cats–Bao is a little overfriendly."

Abby gave me a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before releasing me and taking a seat next to Justin, her posture relaxed yet attentive. I couldn't sit; I couldn't still the storm raging inside me. So instead, I paced, my eyes scanning the room but not really seeing anything.

"Hey, Nathan," Justin's voice broke through my thoughts, "you're scaring me, man. What's wrong?"

His words should have prompted me to confide in him, to spill every dark and twisted detail of the mess we were in. But I couldn't find the words, and the fear of what might be coming for us kept my mouth firmly shut.

Instead, I just shook my head and continued pacing, feeling like a caged animal.

"Justin," Abby said calmly. "We're sorry to show up so early, but you weren't answering your phone and well…Lily got a visit from the FBI this morning. They were asking about us—about someone named Tyler Matthews. Did they come here too?"

Justin's eyebrows knotted in confusion. "FBI? No, nobody's been here. What's this about, Nate?"

I turned to him, finally ready to talk—fully prepared to come clean, because I couldn't bear to keep all these secrets alone—but before I could muster an answer, the piercing trill of my phone cut through the tension. My hand shot into my pocket like it was on fire, fishing out the device. I was certain it would be Lily, telling me she was being taken into custody, that our empire of lies was crumbling…

…but Lily's name didn't flash across the screen this time.

It was Ma.

And that was so, so much worse.

"Hello?" I answered immediately, worry gnawing at my insides.

I told myself she was just calling to see if Abby had broken the news to me about the affair, the fires…that she was fine.

But then I heard a loud crash, and I knew she wasn't fine at all.

"Ma?" I asked, my voice betraying my fear. The line crackled with her sobs.

"Nathan, you have to protect Justin. Your father, he knows everything," she gasped between cries. "Please, go to him."

"Ma, what's going on? Are you safe?" I tried to keep the panic out of my voice, but it was like trying to smooth ripples on water.

"Your father is...he's coming for—" Her sentence was cut off by sounds that didn't belong on a phone call: a loud bang, a scream that twisted my guts into knots.

"Ma!" I shouted into the phone, but there was no response—just an ominous silence and then the stark, gut-wrenching beep of the disconnected call.

I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at it in disbelief, as if it might somehow reanimate and explain itself. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat screaming urgency and terror.

"God, Nathan, what was that?" Abby's eyes were wide with concern, her voice steady despite the chaos.

"Is Ma okay?" Justin asked. He had gone pale, his confusion replaced by the kind of fear that paralyzes a man. "Is she…what the hell is going on, Nathan? You're really fucking scaring me."

"Ma," I started, stumbling over the words, "she said Ba knows about…everything." I couldn't elaborate, not when every second counted, not when every fiber in my body screamed for me to move, to act. "I have to get to their house. Now."

I bolted toward the door, my mind a whirlwind of fear and urgency. Abby's hand shot out, her grip firm on my arm, tethering me for a moment.

"Wait, Nathan, I'm coming with you."

I shook my head, my voice a low growl of desperate authority. "No, Abby. You need to stay here, keep Justin and Derek safe. Ba could send people for them, too."

Derek's voice cut through from the kitchen threshold, laced with confusion. He was standing there in sweats and a t-shirt, holding a tray of coffee cups as if we were at brunch and not the end of everything. "What's going on?"

"Please," was all I could muster, my eyes locking with Abby's, begging her to understand without words. The world had tilted off its axis, and I needed her to be my anchor for them.

She stepped close, and I wondered if she was about to slap me…but then she was kissing me, her lips crashing against mine in a kiss that was equal parts fear, defiance, and promise. She tangled her fingers in my hair and I poured all of myself into that kiss—all the pieces I wanted her to keep if, god forbid, I never made it back.

When she pulled away, her eyes blazed with fierce determination.

"I'll keep them safe," she whispered fiercely. "But you better come back to me in one piece, Nathan Zhou."

I nodded, the weight of her plea anchoring me amidst the storm. And with that, I spun on my heel and darted out the door, the echo of my pounding heart chasing me down the stairs.