Chapter Forty-Three Nathan

The shrill ring of my phone shattered the silence, tearing me from the grip of sleep. My hand shot out in the darkness, fumbling to silence the sound before it could wake her. But it was already too late.

"What's going on?" Abby's voice was thick with sleep as she stirred beside me, her green eyes blinking open in confusion.

"Go back to sleep," I muttered, squinting at the caller ID. The screen cut through the dark room with a harsh glow, and my blood turned cold.

Ba.

Something was wrong.

I slipped out from under the sheets, careful not to disturb Abby further as I padded barefoot across the room. Answering the call, I braced myself for whatever chaos awaited on the other end.

"Ba?" I said, keeping my voice low.

"Nathan, listen—" His tone was urgent, a rumble of thunder that spoke of trouble brewing on the horizon.

"Tell me what's going on." My heart throbbed against my ribcage. When the Serpent called at this ungodly hour, it meant the flames of hell were licking at our doorstep.

"There's been another hit on us," Ba's voice was like gravel, and I tensed, waiting for the blow. "This time it's personal."

"Personal how?" My pulse hammered in my veins, a relentless drum urging me to action. "Who's hurt?"

"Justin," he said, and my world tilted on its axis. "Caught up in a bombing at one of the clubs downtown."

"Justin?" Disbelief laced my question as I struggled to process his words. My brother—never a target, barely even involved in our business.

"That's what I said."

"Damn it, what club?" I demanded, images of twisted metal and screams already painting the dark canvas of my mind.

"Glitter. They were moving our product there. Serpent LSD."

"Justin? At Glitter?" Confusion knotted my brow as I tried to align this information with the brother I knew. Glitter was a gay club and prime party spot downtown, but Justin wasn't gay, and he'd never touched drugs—let alone hallucinogens. "What the hell was he doing there?"

"An excellent question," Ba muttered, a hint of suspicion lacing his tone. "We'll sort that out later. Right now, you need to get to the hospital."

I felt the familiar weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders. Every muscle in my body tensed, ready to move, to fight, to protect what was mine.

"Is he—?" The question caught in my throat, fear clawing at my insides.

"Alive. But we don't know how bad it is yet." The Serpent's voice was steely, composed. "The bomber's there too. We've got a window before the Feds swarm in. Our guys on the inside will get you to him."

"Understood." My response was automatic, the soldier in me overriding the panic-stricken brother for a moment. "I'm on my way."

"Be careful," Ba said, a rare note of paternal caution in his voice. "And Nathan…make them pay."

The line went dead, leaving me alone in the stillness, the darkness of the room pressing in on me. I ended the call and stood motionless, trying to quell the tempest inside me. My mind raced through scenarios, each more violent than the last.

I hurried to my dresser to grab some clothes, desperately hoping that Abby had drifted back to sleep. I was too angry to talk to her right now—I needed to hit something, not gentleness. The darkness of our room felt like a cage I was desperate to escape, a peaceful place when I felt anything but.

"Where are you going?" Abby's voice cut through the silence, tinged with concern. She had woken up fully now, probably from the tension that had seeped into the air.

"Justin's hurt," I said bluntly, pulling on my clothes without looking at her. My brother's name felt like a lead weight on my tongue.

"Justin?"

"My little brother," I muttered—and it felt strange that she didn't already know, as if she could read me like an open book.

"Is he okay?" Her words were soft but urgent as she sat up, the sheets pooling around her waist. She reached out toward me, her green eyes searching my face for something—reassurance or maybe the truth.

I hesitated, not used to this kind of worry being directed at me, especially not from someone like Abby. Someone who didn't know the life I was born into, the life that now demanded I go and avenge my blood.

"Abby, stay here," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I couldn't afford to be distracted, not with Justin lying in a hospital bed because someone had dared to target the Serpents.

"Please, just—" Her hand brushed mine, and for a second, I wanted to cling to that soft touch, to forget the violence that awaited me outside our door.

"Stay out of it," I snapped, pulling away. I didn't have time to comfort her, to explain. There was a code to follow, a debt to be settled. I turned on my heel, stalking towards the door and down the stairs with a purpose.

But she was persistent, her bare feet padding softly against the floor as she followed me.

"Talk to me, Nathan. Please." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the air, demanding attention I couldn't give.

"Nothing to talk about," I grumbled, clenching my fists. It was a lie; there was everything to talk about, but not now, not with the chaos that waited for me. Feelings had no place in the world I lived in, they just got you killed—or worse, they got the ones you care about killed.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked, her hand hovering at my arm, not quite touching.

My patience snapped.

I whirled around, seizing her by the jaw with a grip that was all too familiar with wielding force. "Listen to me, Abby," I hissed, my voice low and dangerous, a stark reflection of the life I led away from the safe harbor of her presence. "I'm not your boyfriend. I own you, and you're my fuckdoll. Fuckdolls don't ask questions. They just wait to have their holes filled…so go the fuck back to bed and wait."

Her green eyes flashed with a fire that would have made lesser men retreat, but I wasn't just any man—I was Fangs Zhou, her keeper, her master. With a rough shove, I sent her stumbling back to the floor, her hands catching her fall.

"Nathan—"

"Keep your fucking mouth shut," I spat out, the words like venom on my tongue. Her expression twisted with anger, her freckles standing out against her flushed skin—she looked every bit the fierce woman I knew she could be.

But this wasn't her fight, and I'd do whatever it took to keep her out of it.

Turning on my heel, I stormed out, slamming the door behind me. The night air hit my face, doing nothing to cool the heat of my rage. This was my world, one where blood answered blood and the only law was survival. I stepped into the shadows, leaving behind the one person who might have seen through the darkness that clung to me.

But for tonight, there was no room for light, not when retribution awaited.