35. Chapter Thirty-Five Nathan

Chapter Thirty-Five: Nathan

O ur makeshift memorial was quiet, just a few sobs breaking the silence now and again. We sat huddled together on the floor, kneeling or praying or both, our breaths mingling in the air, heavy with the scent of incense and loss.

Today was about Ma.

And damn, did it hit hard.

"Your mother," Mr. Huang from the corner store said, "she got my boy into college. Never asked for nothing back." He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, his voice rough like sandpaper.

I nodded, taking it in. Pieces of her life I never knew, like scattered cards I was finally putting together. Ma had been deep in the Triad's game, but her heart…it seemed to beat for more than just power and control.

Or, maybe that was wrong. She’d wielded her power to help people, while my father used it like a cudgel.

If I one day directed the Serpents like she had…maybe I could actually do some good in this world.

"Hey, Nathan," Lily whispered, her voice pulling me back to the here and now.

I looked up as she stood, her gaze fixed on something behind us. The altar with its candles and flowers blurred as I followed her line of sight. Voices, low and cautious, buzzed from the entrance to the safehouse.

"Get ready," Lily said, placing her hand on my shoulder, her touch light but firm.

I rose to my feet and turned, catching the sight of Xinyi Lin striding through the safehouse with purpose, her son and a couple of the crew at her flanks. My heart kicked into overdrive. Last time we met, it got ugly.

I gave her son a beating, and she caught a stray hand meant for him.

"Damn," I muttered under my breath.

This was not good. Not good at all.

With every step she took closer, memories of that night flashed before me—her son's bloodied face, her shocked expression. My hands were weapons, my anger a trigger, and now I was facing the consequences.

I started walking, each step heavy, loaded with the weight of what I had done. I planned to meet her halfway, look her in the eyes, show her I wasn't afraid. But as the distance closed, something inside me buckled. Power, respect, fear—they all mixed up in my head, and before I knew it, I was close enough to see the fire in her eyes.

"Xinyi—" My voice broke off. No words could fix this. No tough guy act would make things right.

So in a split-second decision that felt like falling backwards off a cliff, I dropped down, my knees hitting the cold floor hard.

"Forgive me," I murmured.

I stayed down, forehead pressed against the cool floor, waiting for something, anything. The room was thick with silence, the kind that weighs on your back like concrete.

Then, from above, Xinyi's voice cut through, steady and sure.

"You killed my husband…almost killed my son. But now, you're our only option."

The words hung there, heavy. She didn't tell me to stand. I dared a glance to the side; Abby's sneakers were planted firm beside me. I could feel her tense up, ready to jump into action if needed.

I prayed she wouldn’t. This wasn’t her fight.

Footsteps echoed, getting louder, coming closer. My family, I knew without looking. They lined up with us, united in this messed-up moment.

"Get up," Xinyi's voice was hard, no room for debate.

I pushed myself off the floor, muscles tight, and faced her. Her hand whipped out, connecting with my cheek in a sharp crack that echoed through the silence of the room. The sting spread across my face, hot and immediate.

I didn't move. Didn't even blink.

The slap hung in the air, time grinding to a halt. Then Abby lurched forward, fury written clear on her face. I caught her arm before she could get past me.

"Abby, no," I said, my voice low but firm. "I deserved it."

Her eyes were wild, locked on Xinyi, but she stopped. She stood there, breathing hard, and finally took a step back. I turned my head slightly, feeling the heat from where Xinyi's palm had met my skin.

It was a mark I'd earned. A small payment for a debt too large to ever fully repay.

I stood there, cheek still stinging, when I caught sight of Andrew Lin. He was a statue behind his mother, his face unreadable. But his hand…it gave him away. It twitched and jerked like it was dancing to some chaotic tune only he could hear. My gut twisted. The fingers didn't line up right—they were a mess because of me. I vividly remembered plunging a fork through his hand…and then breaking his leg. His limp was my doing too.

"Andrew," I started, my voice rough around the edges. "I'm sorry, man. Really, I am." I bowed my head again, not daring to look up at him. I had hurt him, but in this moment, all the pride and anger I held onto before seemed small and petty.

Xinyi's eyes locked on mine after a tense pause. "It doesn't matter now," she said. Her voice was calmer, almost soft, but it carried weight, demanded attention. "Evelyn was a dear friend. She worried you'd follow in your father's footsteps."

I swallowed hard, bracing myself for what was coming next, but Xinyi surprised me.

"Your being here," she continued, "It shows you haven't turned into him. And your mother…she was proud of you. She believed in you. Believed that you were the one who would one day unseat your father."

There was something like respect—or maybe just acceptance—in her gaze. She believed in Ma's judgment, even if forgiving me wasn't fully in the cards yet.

The air felt different after that, charged with something new. It wasn't forgiveness, not exactly, but it was a start—a chance for something other than blood and regret between us.

"Now, let’s talk," Xinyi said. "We've got work to do."

I nodded, biting back any words that might've spilled out. It was time for business, and the heavy feeling in my chest agreed, ready to shift from grief to action.

We all moved together, a quiet procession back to the meeting room. Abby stayed close, her presence a steady beat beside me. The others fell into step: Knuckles with his ever-watchful eyes; Lily, Justin, and Alex whispering to each other.

The meeting room welcomed us back with its familiar leather and wood scent. Some women I recognized from the teahouse were already there, their faces serious, their postures ready. They must have been waiting, knowing what was coming next.

Xinyi took her place at the head of the table, the matriarch of this twisted family reunion. Without a word, she clasped her hands together, commanding the room’s attention.

"Kenny's gone too far," she said, her voice steady. "It's time we made our move."