21. Chapter Twenty-One Abby

Chapter Twenty-One: Abby

W e had failed.

And I shot an FBI agent.

I may have killed an FBI agent.

And Nathan wasn’t here.

He was hurt and we hadn’t gotten him out.

Those were the only things on my mind as my eyes snapped open.

I could hear my heartbeat thundering, deafeningly loud. A cold dread spread through me, chasing the warmth from my skin, leaving my face numb. Panic wrapped around me, an unyielding vice that squeezed until the world began to spin, tilting off its axis.

I was still on the ground in that ditch. Covered in pine needles and damp earth, blood now scabbed over on my temple.

I’d been here longer than I planned.

Fuck, fuck…

"Abby, you have to move!"

Someone was screaming.

Maybe me.

Maybe Nathan, maybe our unborn child.

So I moved.

With legs made of lead, I lurched forward, back up to the highway. Each step seemed futile, the distance growing with every passing second. I pushed harder, clawed my way up that hill…

…only to find that the battle was over.

The armored truck was gone.

Nathan was definitely gone.

The realization that I couldn't catch up, that I was left without Nathan in this mess, dragged on me.

"Abby!"

Someone grabbed me, yanking me out of the way. At first, I thought it was Justin–but it took me a second to process that this guy was older. Knuckles. It was the first time I’d noticed their resemblance, but now it seemed clear as day.

“Get down!” he shouted.

The urgency in Knuckles' voice snapped me back into reality. I felt his hand clamp down on my arm, yanking me away from the path of a speeding bullet that had just missed its mark. Instinctively, I ducked, my heart slamming against my rib cage as I realized just how close I'd come to being another casualty.

“Kenny’s men are out for our heads,” he muttered. “We need to get out of here.”

“But Nathan–”

“You must have crashed for a bit, because that truck drove off maybe twenty minutes ago,” Knuckles muttered. “We’ve been fighting the Serpents ever since–and now we need to fucking run.”

Knuckles didn't let go of me, his grip an anchor in the chaos. I stumbled after him, my mind reeling but my feet moving purely on survival instinct.

"We have to get Nathan," I gasped once we were out of immediate danger, the adrenaline making my thoughts jumbled and frantic. I needed to get him out.

"We will. This didn’t work, but it doesn’t mean we won’t try again," Knuckles said, his voice steady despite the pandemonium we'd left behind. He didn't hesitate as he led me away from the highway, into the redwoods, each turn taking us further from the nightmare we'd left behind.

We’d failed.

I’d lost Nathan again …without even touching him.

"Here," he said abruptly, stopping beside a sedan that was as forgettable as any other car parked on the street. It was a vehicle meant to be overlooked, and in that moment, I envied its ability to blend into the background.

I slid into the passenger seat mechanically, my muscles moving from memory rather than conscious thought.

"Knuckles, I'm in a shitton of trouble," I whispered, gripping the edges of the seat.

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable, as he started the engine. "What the hell does that mean?"

"I just shot an FBI agent." My voice broke on the last word, the gravity of my confession settling in my stomach like lead. I had crossed a line, and there was no erasing it.

For a long second, Knuckles said nothing, and the silence stretched between us, heavy with the weight of my admission.

Then, out of the silence, Knuckles let out a short, hollow laugh, one that sounded more like a scoff than anything resembling amusement. It didn't reach his eyes. "Abby, you were already in a shitton of trouble," he said, his words laced with an irony that felt like a slap to my already raw nerves. “You said it yourself; you left that life behind.”

I wanted to argue, to defend myself, but a wave of nausea hit me instead. My hand flew to my stomach, clutching the fabric of my shirt as if it could somehow anchor me and keep the sickness at bay.

“You good?” he asked.

“I’m pregnant and I just killed about four people,” I muttered. “Being ‘good’ is relative.”

The car lurched forward as Knuckles navigated into the night, every mile put between us and the scene of my crime.

Further away from Nathan.

"Where are we going?" I managed to ask.

"Somewhere safe," Knuckles replied tersely, his attention fixed on the road ahead.

"Is anywhere even safe?" The question slipped out, a whisper of doubt that perhaps there was no refuge left for someone like me.

"Maybe not," he admitted. But then he added, "But I'll be damned if I let them catch us without a fight."

I leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes. I focused on the engine’s steady hum, on the tires speeding down the California highway.

"Abby, you need to hold it together," Knuckles said after a long silence.

I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze briefly. "I'm trying.”

"Trying won't cut it. You're in this now, all the way."

His words were harsh, but not unkind. They were the truth. I’d sworn myself to the Sisterhood of Vipers…and to Nathan. So I nodded, swallowing hard against the fear that threatened to choke me.

“You’re pretty good with a gun.”

“Well, I was trained at Quantico.”

“Don’t gotta brag about it,” he scoffed. “Listen, we've got one shot at getting out of this mess. One chance to turn the tables on those who think they can control us," he continued, glancing at me again with an intensity that burned even in the dim light of the car's interior. “Nathan would be alright if he was locked up, but Kenny has eyes everywhere. It’s a problem.”

“We have to get him out,” I said. “I won’t stop trying.”

“We will. I have a plan.”

"Tell me what to do," I said, my voice steadier now, a trace of resolve seeping back into my bones.

"First, we lay low. No use trying anything after the shit we stirred up.”

"But we can plan our next move," I said quietly.

"Exactly. And Abby?" Knuckles said, breaking into my thoughts once more. "You're stronger than you know. Don't forget that."

It sounded like he meant it.

It was just a shame I didn’t feel like it at all.