47. Chapter Forty-Seven Abby

Chapter Forty-Seven: Abby

T he guard's hand on my back was lighter than I expected as he nudged me down the hallway that had once been pristine and warm. Now, the Zhou family home looked more like a slaughterhouse. Dirt and dust clung to the walls, the once polished floors now sticky with neglect.

It was a dump, nothing like the shiny home I remembered. Kenny's kind of rot must have seeped into the bones of the house, turning it into this wreck.

"Right in there." The guard pointed at the bathroom door, his face a sickly shade of green, like he'd rather be anywhere but here with me. He didn't even bother to check if I was hiding anything. They were all too busy tonight, what with the chaos Kenny had kicked up.

"Thanks," I muttered, pushing open the door.

Alone at last.

Time to get moving.

I started the sink, then I made a wretching noise that almost made me gag, splashing sink water into the toilet. "Oh God, sorry," I called out between heaves. The sounds were exaggerated, but the nausea was real enough. Fear twisted in my gut. I steadied my breath.

I needed to pull it together.

I didn’t have time for this.

I gave myself a little more time, preparing myself. I palmed a knife; I knew I could do more damage with that at close range, and a gunshot sounding in the house could get Nathan killed. For one more second, I steeled myself, went to the door…and exhaled.

I pushed the bathroom door open and stumbled out, playing the part of the sick, weak pregnant lady. The guard glanced up, quick. His eyes narrowed as he saw me sway.

"Easy there," he said, grabbing my arm. His grip was firm but not rough.

He didn't know that under the sick-girl front, I was coiled tight, ready to spring.

"Thanks," I croaked, keeping my head down. My free hand felt the cold metal of the knife. Upstairs was where I needed to be, where Lily would be—and the stairs were just down the hall, to my right.

"Can you walk?" the guard asked, his voice edged with impatience.

"Think so," I replied, swallowing hard. My mind raced, planning. Each step had to count. No room for mistakes, not now. I couldn’t let on how much I knew, how ready I was to turn this around. We started moving, the stairs coming into view…

And the guard didn’t see me coming at all.

I twisted out of his grip, spun around, and drove the knife deep into his gut. His eyes went wide, a choked noise escaped him, and I felt something twist in my stomach too.

"Sorry," I whispered, not sure who I was apologizing to—the guard or myself. I yanked the blade out and clamped my other hand over his mouth before he could scream. With one swift motion, I dragged the knife across his throat. Blood poured out, hot and slippery on my fingers.

His body slumped to the floor, and I stood there for a second, just breathing. It was funny—I'd seen plenty of death, done a hell of a lot of violence since Nathan had come into my life. At first I’d seen it as necessary, but now? Now it felt good.

A scary kind of good that lit up something dark inside me.

The same kind of darkness that Nathan had lit like a black flame.

I shook off the feeling and kept moving. I could dwell on my homicidal tendencies later.

I took the stairs slow and steady, barely making a sound as I took it all in. This house…it used to shine. Now, it just felt like a shell —empty except for the rot seeping out from Kenny's touch. The walls had stains on them, and there was this smell, like wet dirt, hanging in the air.

A light flickered overhead as I reached the top step, making shadows jump around me. Evelyn had kept everything perfect, but now she was gone, and so was the life of this place. Just like the light, the house seemed to be blinking out, ready to go dark.

I turned the corner, quiet as I could manage—and spotted another of Kenny’s goons, eyes out the window. His back to me, clueless. My fingers flexed around the knife's handle, slick with sweat or maybe something worse.

He didn't hear me coming; he didn't stand a chance. In one quick move, I stepped up behind him and drew the blade across his throat. Blood hit the floor, but not a sound came out of him. He crumpled, and I let him drop, feeling that rush again.

But it was different this time, colder, more business than pleasure.

"Sorry," I whispered, not sure if I meant it for him or someone else. "No more of this. Once we're out, no more killing." I looked down at my stomach, flat and betraying nothing of the life inside. "You hear that, little one? Your mom's gonna make this right. No more blood after tonight. Swear it."

I left the guard there, lying in the hallway that stank of old money and new death, and moved on. I could hear crying…then a scream. Lily was begging to be let go, fighting for her life. The hallway stretched out, door after door promising nightmares behind each one. That thought clawed at my mind, dragging me into a dark pit of what-ifs.

What if Kenny wasn't playing his sick games downstairs? What if he was here, close enough to touch, doing god-knows-what?

"Focus, Abby. Save Lily, then deal with Kenny," I told myself, pushing forward. There was no room for fear now, not when every second counted. I edged closer to the room where Lily's cries had come from, my heart racing. A floorboard creaked underfoot, and I froze, listening hard.

That's when another voice cut through the stillness—a voice that was cold as ice.

"Shut up, little girl."

Diane Hayes.

The woman who’d almost killed us in the Vipers’ hideout…who’d gotten Knuckles and Lily into Kenny’s hands.

A woman I should have killed days ago.

Tonight, I would make sure that killing stuck.

And I would enjoy it.