45. Chapter Forty-Five Abby

Chapter Forty-Five: Abby

T he teahouse was clearing out, the last whispers of strategy and cigar smoke hanging in the air. The guys, each with a part to play, grabbed their jackets, hats pulled low over shadowed eyes. Doors creaked as one by one they slipped out into the chill of the San Francisco night, heading to the Serpents' cash washes and bars where dirty money got clean.

"Time to move," Nathan said, his voice low and steady.

He didn't wait for an answer. I knew the drill.

We stepped outside, the cool air nipping at my cheeks. The city was quiet, like it was holding its breath, waiting for something big to happen. I followed Nathan to his car, a black sedan that looked like every other car on the street but had guts under the hood that could outrun a cheetah. Nathan opened the door for me, and I slid into the passenger seat, the leather cool against my skin.

"Seatbelt," he reminded me, and I clicked it into place. Nathan got behind the wheel. He stuck the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life, a deep, throaty sound that promised speed.

"Let's go make some noise," I said, a half-grin pulling at my lips.

"Like we'd do anything else," Nathan shot back, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Our hands found each other, fingers interlocking with a grip that said more than words. We looked at each other, really looked . No words needed. We both knew what was on the line tonight.

"Abby…" Nathan breathed out.

"I love you," I said, cutting right to the heart of it. "Always."

"Love you too."

His lips met mine, a kiss full of all the things we might not get to say later. It was brief, fierce, and it spoke of promises and goodbyes we hoped we wouldn't happen.

We hadn’t said it, but we both knew.

We pulled back just enough to see each other again. This could be it, our last chance before the endgame. But we were in it together, till death do us part.

And damn if I'd let it be ours without one hell of a fight.

The engine hummed beneath us as Nathan slid the gear into drive. The world outside blurred into a landscape of intention, every streetlight a passing flare in the night.

"Ready?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the road.

My hand dropped to my side, fingers brushing against cold metal. The pistol strapped to my thigh was a familiar weight, its presence a silent partner in what was about to unfold. I ran a check over my weapons, a ritual as familiar as breathing. Knife tucked inside my boot, another hidden under the waistband of my jeans, and one more—the sharpest—strapped to my forearm. All of them were close, within reach, ready to dance if the music called for it.

"Everything good?" Nathan asked.

"Locked and loaded," I replied, patting the pistol. "Your turn. Run me through what you've got."

"Just the one pistol.” He tapped his waist. “We’ll probably get patted down.”

"Knives?"

"Three. One in my boot, one behind the belt, and another up my sleeve." His smile was easy, but his eyes were all business.

I shook my head, half-amused, half-awed at our reality. "We're like a walking armory. This is nuts."

"Hey," he said with a shrug, "beats couples yoga."

"True."

Then my phone buzzed. The laughter died as I pulled it out and saw Dad's name flash across the screen. Two messages. The first was simple: "Love you, Sprout." My throat tightened at the nickname that took me back to pigtail days and scraped knees.

The second text yanked me back to the present, talking about arsonist attacks lighting up San Francisco. My heart sped up. It was happening, our plan unfurling across the city in flames and smoke.

"Trouble?" Nathan asked, watching my face.

I stared at the glow of my phone screen, at the words that had appeared from Dad. His next message cut straight to the point: "You got anything to do with this?"

My fingers hovered, then moved with certainty, tapping out a reply. "We had to. We're hitting Kenny's spots, not civilians." I hit send, feeling the weight of each word.

"Everything okay?" Nathan asked, eyes locked on mine.

"Fine," I replied, tucking the phone away. I could almost hear Dad's voice in my head, heavy with that look he gets, the one that says he's disappointed but knows arguing is like trying to stop a storm with an umbrella.

Deep down, I knew he would think it wasn't much better, targeting the Serpents' dirty money instead of random folks. But what choice did we have? The law was a sieve, letting guys like Kenny slip through while good people got caught in the crossfire.

Nathan watched me, waiting for me to say more. But there was nothing else to say. I'd made my decision the moment I decided the law couldn't protect Nathan.

So why would it protect our future kid?

We were doing what we needed to do. And right now, that was all that mattered.

I glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror, and for a moment, I couldn't recognize the cold-eyed woman staring back. I felt no guilt as I thought about the fires burning through Kenny's empire, yet a pang of something else twisted in my gut—disappointment from my dad. He always had this way of making me want to be better, but here I was, far from the daughter he once knew.

I was what this life made me, and remorse wasn't part of the package anymore.

"Looks like we're on track," I said, breaking the silence. "Fires are lighting up all over town. Kenny's gonna be spread thin trying to put them out."

Nathan nodded, his eyes not leaving the road. "Good. By the time we roll up on him, he won't know what hit him." He glanced at the clock on the dashboard: ten o’clock, hours to go before he put a bullet in Knuckles Chen. "We've got time."

"Perfect," I muttered, feeling that familiar rush. We were close, so damn close to ending this.

We parked the car a block away from the Zhou house, the engine going silent as we coasted to a stop and turned off the headlights. I peered through the tinted windows, my eyes fixed on the line of black cars starting to roll out from his driveway.

"Look," I whispered, pointing. Nathan leaned over to see, his hand resting on the gear stick.

"Right on time." His voice was calm, but I could tell he was relieved.

"His people are leaving. It's working," I said, watching another car join the procession, tail lights blending into the night.

"Ba's not stupid," Nathan said, his voice low. "He'll have men inside. Guys we don't see."

I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to face him. "Sure, but he doesn't know about us. Not really. He thinks he's seen all our moves."

"Stopgaps won't stop us," Nathan added, pulling out his own knife and checking the blade.

"Right." I cracked my knuckles, feeling the weight of the gun against my thigh. "Let him have his guards. We've got our own tricks, and Kenny?" I leaned in close to Nathan, a smirk playing on my lips. "He's clueless about what's coming for him."

Nathan grinned back at me, that wild spark in his eyes.

"Then let's not keep him waiting any longer."