Chapter Twenty-Nine Nathan

"Now take off your clothes, Abby. I won't ask again."

Abby just stared at me, those green eyes of hers wide and calculating. The silence stretched between us, thick enough to choke on.

I didn't have time for this. With a flick of my wrist, I shrugged out of my jacket and threw it carelessly onto the back of the sofa. The leather made a soft thud as it landed, the only sound in the otherwise quiet space.

"Did you not hear me?" I growled, my patience hanging by a thread. "I said take off your clothes."

Her gaze never wavered, locked onto mine with an intensity that matched my own. She stood there, defiant, her fair skin dotted with freckles that seemed to mock me, remind me of what I had to do.

If this was our last night together…I was going to make the most of it.

No matter what she wanted.

"Abby," I warned, letting her name roll off my tongue like a threat.

Finally, she moved. She reached down and, with a slow deliberateness that was pure torture, peeled her shirt over her head. Her movements were hesitant but laced with a determination that I had come to expect from her. Fear flickered in her eyes, yes, but there was something else too—desire. It sparked in the depths of her gaze, raw and undeniable.

I could almost taste it, that delicious blend of trepidation and want that seemed to emanate from her. It made my blood heat and my cock harden in response. There was something undeniably intoxicating about having such power over someone, watching them yield to you.

But shit, I needed a drink to steady myself. To push back the gnawing feeling that what I was doing was as much for me as it was a part of the twisted game my life had become.

I turned my back on her and stalked over to the locked cabinet by the far wall. The numbers fell under my fingertips easily, a code I'd memorized long ago when I first understood that some secrets needed to be kept even closer than family.

The click of the lock disengaging was like a signal, a starting gun for the chaos that was about to unfold.

I grabbed a bottle of whiskey–no glass, no pretense of civility. Unscrewing the cap, I tipped it back and took a long, searing swig. The liquid burned its way down my throat, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. It grounded me, reminded me I was still here, still in control despite the storm of emotions threatening to break free inside me.

Soon, she would be gone…and it would be business as usual.

I would survive, like I always did.

"Keep going," I called out without looking at her, the command rough against the edges of my voice. "All of it, Abby."

I hissed out a breath as the whiskey settled in my stomach, the heat spreading through my limbs. With every second that ticked by, I knew our time was running out. But damn if I wasn't going to savor every last moment, before the night ended in blood.

I turned around, the heavy bottle of whiskey still in my grasp, and caught sight of Abby standing in the open space of the living room. Naked. Her skin was a canvas of moonlit ivory, dotted with freckles that begged to be traced by the tip of a finger or the brush of a tongue. Her chest heaved with anxious breaths, painting her with a vulnerability that clashed with the fierce determination I'd come to know in her eyes.

"Bedroom," I ordered, my voice brooking no argument. "Crawl."

She hesitated for just a moment—a flicker of defiance or maybe contemplation—before sinking to her knees. The sight of her obedience sent a jolt through me that settled heavily in my cock, already hard with desire.

I followed her, my footsteps deliberate, the weight of the whiskey bottle a reminder of the twisted game we were playing. Her body moved with an unexpected grace, each motion deliberate and laced with a silent plea. I watched, entranced, as muscles shifted under smooth skin, as she made her way to where I'd told her to go.

The scent of her arousal filled the air between us, a sweet fragrance that spoke of forbidden desires and needs unspoken. It clung to the back of my throat, and I could see the evidence of her arousal glistening at the apex of her thighs, her pussy swaying side to side as she crawled. It was intoxicating, knowing I had this effect on her, even as the gravity of what was to come loomed over us like a shadow.

In that moment, with the burn of whiskey in my veins and the sight of Abby's submissive form inching across the floor, I felt a carnal hunger take hold. It threatened to consume me, to make me forget the reasons why this was all wrong, why she was more than just a means to an end.

"Good girl," I crooned. "Now get in bed, on your back."

My voice was a low command, stripped of warmth. Abby didn't hesitate, climbing onto the mattress with an obedience that sent a jolt of satisfaction through me. She laid back against the pillows, her chest heaving slightly, eyes locked on mine. They were deep pools of green, flecked with something like defiance but softened by what I knew was lust.

The quickness of her compliance twisted something deep inside me, a part that craved control and reveled in her submission. It was a dangerous cocktail of emotions, one that made my pulse race and my cock throb with anticipation.

I moved to the locked bedside table drawer and put in the code like I was in a trance, eager for what was to come…and dreading what would happen after.

I could already feel the Serpent's Fang rearing his ugly head inside me as I gazed into the drawer. Inside, the metal cuffs gleamed dully under the dim light. They were cold, unyielding—much like the life I'd been born into.

With deliberate movements, I approached the bed where Abby lay. She watched me, the flush on her cheeks betraying her nervous excitement.

"Give me your wrists," I instructed, a hint of roughness edging my words. Without protest, Abby stretched out her arms towards me, her wrists pale and delicate in my grasp. They were still bruised and raw from the last time I'd had her in cuffs.

I told myself she wouldn't have to suffer through that soon, as I closed the cuffs around her wrist, securing the chain to the bedpost.

"Is this what you want?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with an edge…an edge I was falling for way too fast.

I hummed. "Right now, it's what we both want."

"Stop playing with me, Nathan. What are you doing?"

I crawled over her, boxing her in, then leaned in close. My face was inches from hers, her breath puffing out in fearful gasps against my skin.

"I'm playing with my toy," I murmured, letting the darkness within lace my words. "I don't want to talk."

Abby's eyes flared with a mix of emotions—anger, fear, maybe even a hint of desire—but she didn't cower. "You can't just shut me out. You need to talk to me eventually," she insisted, her voice rising in challenge.

"Eventually isn't now," I replied tersely.

Moving away from the bed, I grabbed a strip of duct tape from the nightstand drawer. Abby's eyes widened, and she shifted uneasily as I approached her again.

"Sorry," I said, not really sorry at all. "But this is one conversation you're not going to win."

With a swift motion, I pressed the tape firmly over her mouth, silencing any further arguments. Her muffled protests vibrated against the adhesive as I smoothed it down, ensuring it wouldn't come off easily.

There was no turning back now. The die had been cast, the game set into motion. And whether Abby liked it or not, she was playing by my rules tonight.

Kneeling over her, I grabbed the whiskey and took a swig of it, taking a moment to drink in the sight of her. Bound and gagged on my bed, she was an intoxicating blend of vulnerability and defiance. My heart raced with a primal need, the desire for her coursing through me like wildfire. I wanted her—badly. Her chest heaved with anxious breaths, eyes locked onto mine, a silent question in their depths.

What was I going to do to her?

"Abby," my voice was rough, almost a growl. "You have no idea how long I've been thinking about this. All fucking day…thinking about you, hard as a fucking rock."

I let my fingers trail down her body, watching as goosebumps rose on her skin. Her hips bucked slightly when my hand found the heat between her legs, and I discovered just how aroused she was. Soaked. The revelation sent a jolt of satisfaction through me. She was responding to me, to this dangerous dance we were entangled in.

"Looks like you want this as much as I do," I whispered, half to myself, as I began to explore her. My fingers teased and stroked, learning every quiver and sigh that I drew from her. She writhed against the restraints, the duct tape muffling her cries. It was maddening—this power, this control. I reveled in it, even as part of me fought against the darkness that wanted to consume the moment.

Taking a step further into the abyss, I shifted lower on the bed, positioning myself between her thighs. My breath ghosted over her sensitive skin, and she shuddered in anticipation.

With one last look at her bound form, I gave in to my baser instincts and tasted her.

It was a heady experience, feeling her squirm under my mouth, her flavor bursting across my tongue. I'd tasted her before, sure…but this was different. This was truly what it meant to devour another person, to feel her as I licked her, to find that clenching heat begging for my tongue, my fingers, my cock. I ate her out with a fervor that matched the hunger roaring inside me. With each stroke of my tongue, each nip and suck, I pushed her closer to the edge, driven by the need to hear her scream from beneath the duct tape.

Her legs were free, and they suddenly came up to clamp around my head, trapping me against her pussy. I loved how she fought me, how she forced me to pleasure her. I gripped her lush hips to brace my lips, sucking her clit into my mouth, plunging my tongue inside.

Her body tensed, legs quivering as she neared her climax. I doubled my efforts, determined to tear every ounce of pleasure from her, to brand myself into her memory forever.

Because deep down, I knew this was more than just lust.

This was possession.

This was claiming something I hadn't realized I'd wanted so desperately.

"Come for me, Abby," I urged against her flesh, my voice a low command. "Let go."

And she did. Her body arched, straining against the cuffs, as she came apart beneath my touch, her release washing over both of us in a wave of raw intensity. I licked her until the end, swallowing down every sweet drop of her and trying to commit it to memory.

As her tremors subsided, I raised my head, locking eyes with Abby. She was still in the throes of her orgasm, body twitching, tears of pleasure in her eyes. "What a fucking good girl, Abby," I murmured as I climbed over her. I pressed a kiss to the duct tape. "What a good girl…"

Then I was pushing myself away, standing up. I let her look at me as I undressed; knew she saw every scar, every burn, every bullet hole, and the jet black dragon that wound its way up my left side and over my shoulder. I didn't know what she thought of me; I supposed I never would.

I climbed over her once again, positioning myself at her entrance. She was moaning, and I could hear her trying to form the word ‘please' from around the duct tape. Her hips jerked up towards me cock and I reveled in how much she wanted me, even after everything I'd done.

I needed to stay here in this moment.

Until it was done, I needed to be here.

Abby moaned into the gag, her eyes squeezing shut when I dragged my cock through her soaking wet folds. She moved her legs to lock around my hips and I chuckled, dipping just inside…then drawing back. She let out a growl of frustration, fingers curling around the cuffs.

"Impatient for my cock, huh?" I murmured. "You're learning your purpose…to have your holes filled, to be played with like my fuckdoll." I leaned forward, took her breasts in my hands, rolled her nipples hard between my fingers, and she squirmed against me. "You're so wet for me, like a good girl…and good girls get rewarded."

I slid home.

Abby arched, screaming into the duct tape, the cuffs jangling against the posts of the headboard. I kept playing with her tits, tugging on her nipples to make sure it hurt.

"You want my cock, Abby?" I hissed. "You want me to fuck you until you're sore? Fill you up with my cum?"

She nodded desperately, brow furrowed, eyes pleading. It made me feel…fuck, it made me feel all kinds of things. I wanted her to want me, even though I knew this was it—that I couldn't keep her any longer.

So I fucked her…and tried to forget.

In that moment, I couldn't hold back any longer. I dove into her, burying myself inside her, feeling her heat surround me as she gasped and moaned into the duct tape. Her curves molded to me, welcoming me in a way that both surprised and thrilled me. She was tight, wet and ready for me. I moved quickly at first, familiar with the rhythm of our bodies connecting as one. She was breathless and panting underneath me, her eyes pleading for release.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as we moved together. Her nails raked against the mattress helplessly as she tried to grip it in her desire. It only fueled mine more, knowing that this woman who had captivated me so thoroughly was completely at my mercy. The scent of sweat and sex filled the air as we grunted and panted together, our hearts pounding in perfect unison.

Each thrust was met with a groan from deep within her chest, but I couldn't bring myself to care about her discomfort or pain anymore. All that mattered was this primal need coursing through me—a hunger for control and submission wrapped into one irresistible package.

"Abby," I growled, each stroke punctuated by the raw need coursing through me. I chanted her name, memorizing how my lips felt around it. "Abby."

But as our bodies moved together in a frenzied rhythm, the reality of our situation loomed over me. I'd told her too much, let her in too close. Looking down at her flushed face, her chest heaving with exertion, I knew that this would be our last time.

I couldn't afford the luxury of softness—not when my family teetered on the brink of annihilation.

I needed this memory to be seared into my brain, to carry the imprint of her with me even after tonight's inevitable conclusion. I wanted to remember her like this—raw and beautiful, completely undone by passion. Even if it was passion born from darkness.

"Forgive me, Abby," I murmured, my voice barely audible over our combined gasps and the sound of skin against skin.

She didn't hear me; she was moaning too loud to pick it up.

The thought of what came next—a thought I pushed back with every ounce of strength I had—fueled a desperation in my movements. I drove into her harder, faster, a silent plea for absolution in each desperate thrust.

And then, as the final shudders wracked my body, I collapsed beside her, breathing heavily, the weight of what I had to do pressing down on me with the inevitability of nightfall. In the darkness of the room, lit only by the sliver of streetlight that snuck through the curtains, I made my decision.

Some might call it duty. Others might whisper it as tragedy. But as I looked at Abby, her body still humming with the echoes of our coupling, I knew there was only one word for it: survival.

And survival in the Triad meant there were no half-measures. No mercy. Not even for the woman who, for a fleeting moment, had made me feel like I was more than just Fangs Zhou—the feared enforcer, the son of the Serpent, the man with blood on his hands.

Tonight, I had to kill Abigail Harper. Because in this life—my life—there was simply no other way.