3. Chapter Three Nathan

Chapter Three: Nathan

T he clang of metal echoed as the holding cell door swung open, yanking me from my thoughts. A guard stood there, his face nothing more than shadows in the dim hallway. "Zhou, up and at 'em," he grunted.

Twelve hours. Twelve long hours in a hard plastic chair, handcuffed to a table as I was beaten and interrogated. But I hadn't cracked—not a word about the family business to the cops.

Not about Abby, not about Justin, not about Knuckles…and not about the decomposing body in my composter.

"Let's go," the guard snapped, cuffing my wrists. He led me down the sterile corridor, the click of my shoes against the hard floor the only sound breaking the silence.

At processing, they took my personal stuff and handed over inmate clothes—drab brown scrubs that smelled like bleach and despair. I changed quickly, avoiding eye contact with the officer on duty. His gaze burned into my back anyway.

"Done?" Diane Hayes’ voice cut through the room, all business. She’d tried to grill me between beatings, but I wouldn’t give Abby up. No luck then, no luck now.

"Yeah," I said, keeping it short.

"Phone call. Make it count." Her eyes followed me to the phone mounted on the wall. She leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching me like a hawk.

I picked up the receiver, the cold plastic familiar in my hand. My mind raced—who could I trust? Who could help me out of this mess without drawing a target on their own back?

"Clock's ticking, Zhou," Diane said, tapping her watch with a smirk.

Abby's face flashed in my minds. I wanted to hear her voice, to lean on her strength, but I couldn’t drag her into this. She was safe as long as she stayed out of it. I put that impulse to bed.

Then there was Ba. The Serpent. The man who’d given me life and taken Ma’s. My finger hovered over the numbers that would connect me to him, but my gut twisted.

I couldn't do it. Not even now, not even with a cell waiting for me.

I thought about calling Ba’s attorney, the slick guy who could make charges disappear like smoke. But something told me he wouldn’t touch this case with a ten-foot pole—not without Ba's say-so, and that was something I wasn’t going to get.

"Need a pen?" Diane mocked, her smirk widening. "Maybe you forgot your lawyer's number."

I glared at her, the receiver heavy in my hand. Every option felt like a dead end. Time was slipping away, and Diane wasn’t about to let me forget it.

"Make the damn call, Nathan," she pressed, enjoying the show.

Scowling, I punched in the number that was etched into my brain from years of dangerous dealings. This was a Hail Mary if I ever tossed one. The line buzzed, and each ring echoed in the stale air of the precinct like a ticking bomb. Calling Knuckles was risky; he was Ba's former right hand…and now his greatest enemy. If Ba got wind of this, I'd be screwed.

But what choice did I have? Knuckles was the only one I knew of who could possibly help me get out and who was on my side. I didn’t want to work with my father—not after what I’d seen with Ma. Even if I’d wanted to continue pretending we were allies, he would know I’d betrayed him once he realized Alex escaped.

If Alex escaped.

"Come on, come on," I muttered under my breath.

Diane leaned against the wall, her arms folded as she watched me with predatory interest. She knew this call meant something, but she couldn’t know how much.

Ring after ring, no answer. Damn it, Knuckles was supposed to be reachable 24/7. My mind raced. Was he busy? Or worse, had he been taken out? Ba knew about his betrayal, knew he’d slept with my mother, that he was Justin’s father. If Ba had sent assassins after Justin, he’d definitely sent them after Knuckles too.

He was probably dead.

I was alone in this.

The call went to voicemail, and I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the precinct's air conditioning. "You've reached the voicemail box of…" a robotic voice started, but I didn't need the introduction. The voicemail beeped and I cleared my throat.

"Hey," I said, trying to sound calm and collected. "It's me. Just…take care of the family, will you?"

I hung up, not wanting to leave anything more that could be twisted by whoever might be listening. I set the phone down and turned to face Diane, who was now eyeing me with suspicion.

"Who did you call?" Diane's voice was casual, but her eyes were sharp, searching for something in my face that might give me away.

I met her gaze, the weight of my situation pressing down on me. But I couldn't let it show. I couldn't give her anything she could use against me.

"I want a lawyer," I said, my voice steady. It's what anyone caught up in this life learned early on. Anything you say can and will be used against you—not maybe, will.

Diane just smirked, as if she enjoyed watching me squirm. "Suit yourself, Nathan," she said with mock sweetness. "But remember—clock’s ticking."

She didn't need to say more. I knew time was my enemy now, more than ever.

"Let's go," Diane said curtly, signaling the guard with a nod.

The guard, a burly guy with hands like meat hooks, grabbed me by the arm—too hard, but that was probably the point—and yanked me up from the cold metal chair. I stood, keeping my face blank, and followed his lead. He wasn't gentle as we walked through the sterile hallways, his grip firm on my upper arm.

"Easy, man," I said, but the guard only grunted and tightened his hold. I didn't resist. That would just make things worse.

We reached a heavy door, and he unlocked it, pushing it open with a creak. The smell hit me first, a mix of sweat, grime, and something else—a kind of despair you could almost taste. My heart thumped against my ribs, not scared, just…alert. Ready for whatever came next.

Inside, three men sprawled on the bunk beds. They looked up as I entered, their stares sharp. I scanned them quickly, taking in the details—their muscled builds, the tattoos that marked them like badges of honor or warning signs.

And then I saw it, the crane on one guy's neck.

Shit.

I felt the pit in my stomach grow into a chasm. There was no backing down now. No chance of blending in or playing it off. These men knew who I was, what I represented. And if they didn't yet, they'd figure it out soon enough.

"Good luck, pretty boy," the guard sneered as he shoved me into the cell.

The door slammed shut with a finality that echoed in my bones. The sound was a clear message: You're in their world now.

I met the gaze of the one with the crane tattoo. His eyes were cold, calculating. I didn't look away. Couldn't afford to show weakness, even though I knew sleep would be a stranger tonight.

"Room for one more?" I asked, my voice steady. It was all about respect now, standing your ground without challenging theirs outright.

No reply. Just those stares that promised a long, rough night.

"Great," I said softly, settling onto the edge of the only empty cot, feeling the weight of their attention. I leaned back against the wall, watching them watch me. Yeah, no sleep tonight. But that was okay. I'd done this dance before.

And given the state of the Serpents, I had much bigger problems than a few Cranes.