Chapter Forty-Eight Nathan

Iwoke with a start, the ghost of troubled dreams slipping away as I registered the warm weight of Abby curled against me. Her breathing was even, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that spoke of a restfulness I envied. The clamor of last night's revelations had drained from my mind, replaced by the quiet comfort of her presence.

We'd talked…I'd broken down…and she'd picked up the pieces as if I deserved her love.

I was such an asshole.

Such a monster.

And she was perfect, more perfect than anything I deserved.

"Morning already?" My voice was rough with sleep, my hand instinctively pulling her closer.

"Morning," she answered, a worried smile playing on her lips as her green eyes met mine. They held a depth of concern that made something in me tighten. She'd been watching me sleep, probably for a while now, and I wondered what thoughts were tumbling through her head.

"Abby..." I began, but she cut me off with a soft touch to my cheek.

"Will you tell me now? What happened yesterday?" Her question hung in the air between us, the urgency behind it clear.

"Maybe I shouldn't," I hesitated, the words clawing at my throat. "It's family business."

"Family business?" A frown creased her brow as she shifted closer, her voice firm yet gentle. "Nathan, I'm not just someone you can keep in the dark anymore. Remember? I belong to you, fully and completely." She held my gaze, her eyes resolute. "And I want to be there for you."

I felt the walls around my heart creak and groan under the weight of her sincerity. This wasn't just about protection or loyalty; this was about something deeper.

Trust.

Love.

"Abby," I said, the name a soft surrender on my lips.

"Tell me what's eating you up inside," she urged, her fingers tracing patterns over my chest, near the coiled dragon inked into my skin—a constant reminder of the life I was bound to.

"Later," I managed, sitting up abruptly. The cool morning air hit my bare torso, and I suppressed a shiver. "I'm hungry."

"Breakfast, then." She smiled, a hint of mischief lighting up her face as she slipped out of bed. "You sit tight. I'll whip something up for you."

"Can't argue with that," I replied, watching her move with an ease that belied the tension from moments ago. There was an artistry to her simplicity, a grace in her care.

As she walked away, I couldn't help but think how this woman—a woman who'd lived through hell—was also the same person who could bring calm to my storm just by being near. Abby Harper was no ordinary woman, and I'd be damned if I didn't feel like the luckiest son of a bitch for having her in my life—even if it was going to get a hell of a lot more complicated from here on out.

I followed her to the kitchen, the scent of brewing coffee already filling the space. Abby moved around, grabbing eggs and veggies from the fridge, a fluidity in her motions.

"Talk to me while I cook," she said without looking back, the sizzle of eggs hitting the hot pan punctuating her words.

I leaned against the counter, watching her for a moment. My gut twisted. It was now or never. "Justin," I started, my voice rough like gravel. "He...he was hurt in a bombing yesterday."

Abby's hands paused mid-stir, but she didn't turn. "Oh, Nathan..." Her voice was a whisper of concern.

"Alex was behind it," I continued, forcing each word out as if lifting weights. "My brother, the second-oldest. The one with the chip on his shoulder the size of Hong Kong."

"And your father?" Abby inquired, her back still to me.

"Ba is...he's a callous asshole." The words tasted like bile on my tongue. "Only cares about the power, the control. Not the sons who are bleeding for it."

"And your mother? Your sister?" she asked, finally turning to look at me with those eyes that saw too much.

"Terrified they're next," I admitted. My fists clenched involuntarily, the need to protect them a fierce burn in my chest. "It's a messed up world I live in, Abby. A world where you can't even trust your own blood."

She nodded, understanding flickering in her gaze. "Family business," she murmured, turning back to the stove.

"Yeah," I breathed out, watching her shake her head slightly, as if trying to clear it. "Family business."

Abby plated the eggs, the colors vibrant against the white porcelain—a stark reminder of life amidst the chaos. She set the plate before me with a soft clink, her movements careful, calculated.

"Feels good to tell someone," I admitted, not sure if I was talking about the relief or the fear that gnawed at my insides. "But I'm dragging you into dangerous waters, Abby. Waters where you could easily drown."

She turned to face me then, a laugh bubbling up from her throat, surprising and rich. "Nathan, this is coming from the guy who's tried to kill me twice. You're worried about danger now?"

I grimaced at the reminder of our twisted past, the violent dance that had brought us to this precarious intimacy. "I've been a real asshole, haven't I?"

"Maybe just a bit," she teased, her eyes sparkling with something fierce and alive. It was a look that said she wasn't just some damsel to be protected; she was a force in her own right.

She leaned against the counter, crossing her arms as she watched me take a bite of the omelette. The fresh veggies crunched satisfyingly between my teeth, and I couldn't help but appreciate the simple pleasure of good food after a night steeped in darkness.

"Damn, this is good," I complimented, genuinely impressed by the taste. It was a small moment of normalcy, and I savored it.

"Thanks," Abby grinned, pride lighting up her features. "I figured we could use a decent meal after everything."

I nodded, feeling the weight of her gaze on me as I ate. She was studying me, trying to read the thoughts I had yet to voice. I knew there was more I should say—warnings to give, secrets to spill—but the words lodged in my throat.

"You know..." She started, breaking the silence that had settled between us. Her tone was light, but her eyes held a depth that belied the casualness of her words. "I might be crazy, but being kidnapped by you might just be the best thing that ever happened to me."

The confession hung in the air, absurd and sincere all at once. I stopped mid-chew, caught off guard. A warmth I didn't expect spread through my chest, not quite like the heat of battle or the adrenaline of survival—it was something softer, more dangerous because it made me vulnerable.

"Abby, you're playing with fire," I warned, though my voice lacked any real sternness. Because despite the risk, despite the insanity of our situation, I couldn't deny the truth in her words.

"Maybe so," she shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. "But I'm not the type to play it safe—and I assume you never have been either?"

"Never," I said, a half-smile tugging at my lips. I looked down at the plate, then back up at her. "And maybe that's not such a bad thing."

Abby pushed off from the counter and walked over, resting a hand on my shoulder. Her touch was light, but it sent a current through me that had nothing to do with the danger outside.

"Exactly," she whispered, her green eyes locked onto mine. "So, let's not start now."

And as I met her gaze, something shifted inside me—a recognition that no matter how deep I was in the life of the Triad, there was something about this woman that cut through it all.

Something worth risking the fire for.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" I asked. "I think it's time you heard the truth–the whole truth–of who I am…so we can plan for the future."

She smiled, and there was something secret there–almost frightening–that took me by surprise. But Abby papered over it fast, and then she was taking my hand.

"That's what I've been waiting for," she murmured. "Let's go."