Chapter Thirty-Three Abby

The afternoon light spilled into the spacious apartment, bathing everything in a golden hue that made even the air seem richer. I stood there, in Nathan's clothes that hung loose on my frame, his scent surrounding me like an unspoken claim. My eyes lingered on the sprawling porch beyond the glass doors, a lush escape from the opulent prison of his apartment.

It really was gorgeous. I missed feeling the air on my skin.

"Can I go out there?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. The fresh air was calling to me, a siren song after days cooped up inside.

Nathan eyed me with the caution of a man who knew danger too well, his brown-black eyes unreadable. "Why?"

"Because I haven't breathed real air in days," I shot back, letting frustration lace my words. "Look, it's your porch, Nathan. Where am I gonna go? You think I can sprout wings and fly off?" I jutted a hip, hoping my casual stance would hide the rapid beating of my heart.

He studied me for a long moment, as if weighing the truth of my words against every possible outcome. Finally, with a subtle nod, he stepped aside, gesturing towards the open door. "Fine. But don't forget our deal."

I didn't need reminding. That deal was etched into my mind, a constant reminder of the line I walked between duty and something far more dangerous.

I stepped out onto the porch, the wood cool beneath my bare feet. I walked to the railing, resting my hands on the smooth surface. It really was too high to escape from here, even with the skills Nathan didn't know I had; a sheer cliff dropped off toward the beach, where ordinary people walked with their dogs, oblivious to the fact that the most dangerous man in San Francisco lived in this very house.

With a deep breath, I inhaled the salty tang of the ocean breeze, feeling the tension ease from my shoulders. It felt like freedom, fleeting and precious, and I closed my eyes to savor it.

Nathan followed, his presence a silent shadow at my back. I could sense him there, the heat of his body a stark contrast to the coolness of the breeze. He remained quiet, giving me this moment of peace before whatever came next.

Looking out, I saw the beach stretched out before us, a few distant figures moving like ghosts along the shore, absorbed in their own worlds. They paid us no heed, just blurs of color and movement too far to discern. Nathan's apartment, perched on the edge of civilization, offered a kind of solitude that was rare in the city.

"Nice view," I remarked, not turning around.

"Helps me think," he said, his voice low and contemplative.

"About rent control?" I asked.

He laughed. "Is there such a thing in Frisco?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm not from here," I said.

I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. His white shirt caught the sunlight, making him look less like the feared Fangs Zhou and more like…someone else entirely. Someone who could appreciate the simple beauty of the world, despite the darkness that clung to him.

He smirked. "I think you've probably been here long enough to feel like a local."

"Fair enough," I replied, opening my eyes to stare out at the horizon, where the sky met the sea in an endless embrace. "And don't worry. I haven't forgotten I have things to do."

Nathan's shoulders dropped. He extended his hand, and in his grip was my phone, its screen alive with frantic notifications.

"Call your dad," he instructed, his tone sharp yet not unkind. "Tell him you're safe."

I took the phone, feeling its familiar weight in my palm. As I swiped through the lock screen, the missed calls and texts from my father and Erika bombarded me. Anxiety twisted in my gut, but I fought to keep my voice even. Nathan's proximity was a constant reminder that every word mattered.

And if he saw anything to give me away, anyone saying Agent Harper…fuck.

"Okay," I said, finding Dad's contact and pressing the call button. The line trilled, a countdown to the performance I had to give.

"Abby, oh my god, where have you been?" My dad's voice was laced with relief and fear, a combination that cut deep.

That's when I felt the tears really start. I knew my dad had been affected by what had happened to me, but fuck, I had almost died–and then what? What would have happened to my father?

"I'm safe, Dad. I just…needed to get away for a bit," I lied smoothly, keeping the tremor out of my voice despite the words tasting like ash, the tears sliding down my cheeks.

"What? Sprout–"

"I really am okay," I said. "I just got swept up in things. I promise I'm fine."

"You should've told me, kiddo. You had us all worried sick."

"I know, I'm sorry," I replied, the apology genuine despite the deceit.

"Promise me—"

"Promise," I interjected before he could finish, knowing the weight of promises in our family. "I'm sorry, I–"

"I'm down here in San Francisco looking for you, sprout, and I was so desperate, so sure something had happened."

"Nothing happened," I said. "But since you're here, maybe we could get a meal or something? So your trip won't be for nothing."

"Yes," my dad immediately answered. "When?"

"Soon," I replied. "I'll text you the details, okay? Just hang tight and don't go home yet."

My dad thought for a second. I could tell he wasn't fully convinced, but he knew better than to question me right then and there. "I love you, sprout. Take care of yourself."

"I will, Dad," I whispered. "I love you."

And then he hung up.

I cleared my screen, missed calls and unanswered texts cluttering the newsfeed on my home screen. Nathan looked at the phone from behind me, taking a step closer to my body.

"Who's Tyler?" Nathan's question shattered the quiet as his arms snaked around my waist, pulling me back against him. His grip tightened when his gaze landed on a text from the one name I hoped he wouldn't see.

Fuck.

I barely managed to hold my composure, but I needed to pull something out of the bag quick.

"An ex," I muttered, quick to dismiss, my thumb hovering over the delete button.

"An ex, huh?" His skepticism crawled up my spine, though his touch remained deceptively gentle.

"Tyler Matthews," I clarified, reading the label below the number: ‘Asshole'. A small detail, but one that might sell my story. I saw Nathan's jaw clench from the corner of my eye.

"Why is he an asshole?" Nathan asked, his breath tickling my air.

"Wouldn't leave me alone," I continued, hoping to steer his thoughts away from any further probing.

"Should I kill him?" he whispered into my ear.

I thought he was joking but I couldn't be sure. His words sent a shiver down my spine. "Maybe not. Aren't you busy?"

"I am. You shouldn't have made plans to see your father," he grumbled, his hold unyielding.

"Would've been weirder if I didn't," I countered, leaning into his embrace, trying to soften him. "You heard how worried he was."

"Fine," Nathan conceded after a tense pause, but not without reluctance.

I reached up, sliding my phone into his pocket because I knew he would never let me keep it and doing this would buy me more of his trust, my fingers grazing his chest. Then, acting on impulse or maybe something more calculated, I turned my head and kissed him. His lips were hard and unyielding, but I sensed the shift, the momentary break in his armor.

"Remember what I promised you," I whispered against his mouth. "I'm your toy, and I won't do anything to put you in danger."

His grip on my arm was sudden and firm as he pulled me towards the door. "Got you something," he said, his voice a low growl that stirred a dangerous thrill within me.

"You did?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "If it's anything like this shithole apartment, you might want to keep it for yourself."

He laughed hard again. "Maybe I will. I'd prefer to have you naked anyway."

We crossed the threshold, and the door closed behind us with a click that echoed through the silent house.

Nathan's grip on my arm wasn't painful, but it was possessive, reminding me of the delicate balance I was forced to maintain. He guided me up the stairs like I couldn't navigate them myself, and then into a room full of lush greenery…and a bed. His bedroom was like a jungle, beautiful and filled with natural light and green leaves.

"I'll be right back," he murmured, then stepped into what I thought must have been a closet.

I waited, my gaze drinking in the luxurious room. Countless plants transformed what might have otherwise looked like a sterile space into a gorgeous, green oasis.

And it smelled really good, too.

Until I remembered these plants were probably fertilized by human remains.

"Where is this present?" I asked, looking around, hoping to spot a box or something somewhere, but there was nothing for me. Everything was so meticulously tidy, absolutely nothing out of place. "If it was the block of knives downstairs, that's quite the upgrade from that shitty little shiv I made."

He laughed again. "No," he said. "But you did give me an idea."

"What?"

"Take off your clothes," he said, and he emerged from the closet pushing a rack of brand new designer clothes. "I want you to try some things on for me."