51. Chapter Fifty-One Abby

Chapter Fifty-One: Abby

I had to get to Nathan.

I bolted down the stairs, gun ready in one hand, knife gripped tight in the other. My eyes darted to the front door—shut tight. The room was dead quiet, no sign of trouble…

…until the shuffle of footsteps echoed from the library.

I raised my gun and stood stock still, aiming toward the entry to the library, my mind racing with every bad outcome. I could picture Nathan dead…Kenny’s men pouring out of the basement to kill me next.

No.

Nathan had to be alive.

Then I saw the last person I wanted to see: Kenny, clutching his leg, a dark stain spreading across his pants. He was unarmed, face screwed up in agony. For a second, he didn't see me, just grimaced and grunted, trying to stay upright as he shuffled toward the door.

But when his eyes finally met mine, something flickered in them—a mix of shock and that twisted joy he got from pain.

"Abigail," he rasped, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was about to laugh or cry—or maybe both. "Didn't think I'd be seeing you here."

I stared at Kenny, his eyes meeting mine for a split second that felt like forever. "Sit down," I said, jerking my head toward the dining table with the gun aimed at his chest.

The smile that crept onto his face was all wrong, like he found something funny in the barrel of my gun. Creepy didn't even begin to cover it. He limped over to the table and sank into his usual spot, like he was presiding over a feast of rotten food. I kept the gun on him, my heart pounding so loud it drowned out the sound of my own breathing.

"Abby, Abby," he murmured, blood dribbling from his mouth as he tried to make himself comfortable. He swept it away, coughed. “I like the look of you with a gun in your hand—”

"Shut up, Kenny," I snapped, not willing to let him get into my head. Not now. Not when I feared the worst—feared that Nathan was lying face down in the kill room, lifeless and cold.

I heard it then—a shuffle, a soft thud from the direction of the library. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I fought to keep my hand steady on the gun aimed at Kenny.

"Expecting someone?" Kenny's voice cut through the tense silence, but I ignored him.

"Shut it," I hissed without taking my eyes off the bottom of the stairs. Would he be this confident if Nathan was alive? Or was he…

The sounds grew louder, footsteps uneven and dragging. It could be anyone; this night had been one surprise hit after another.

And then he was there.

Nathan. His shirt stuck to his body, dark with blood, his hair matted, face smeared with streaks of red. And he a chain around his arm for some reason.

But he was alive.

Alive.

He hobbled up the last few steps, arms limp…a gun in his hand.

We locked eyes, both drenched in so much blood I could barely see his skin. I jerked my head to the side, pointing at Kenny with a sharp tilt of my chin. His eyes were wide, surprise etched on his face that Nathan was still standing.

"Thank you," Nathan said, sounding almost casual despite the blood staining his clothes.

He limped over, grimacing with every step but managing to keep upright. His fingers brushed mine as he took the gun from my hand, his grip firm and determined. This was his kill. He’d earned it.

Then we were both standing at the other end of the table…with the most dangerous man in California on the wrong side of a gun.

"Knuckles?" My voice was hoarse, my throat raw from the tension that had gripped it all night.

"Yeah," Nathan coughed out, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. "Alive. How about Lily?"

“Also alive,” I said. “Safe. Had to take out a few guards…but she’s safe.”

Relief hit me hard, but before I could even let out a full breath, Kenny's face shifted. The sick grin that had been playing on his lips twisted into a grimace. His eyes darted between the two of us, taking in the scene—the gun in Nathan's hand, the resolve in our stance, the bloodshed we'd survived.

He sunk into the head chair at the dining table, a place he'd ruled from like a king. But now his empire was just a house of cards in a storm, fluttering to the floor, one by one. His smile faded completely, leaving behind the bare truth—he had lost everything.

And the worst part for him?

Nathan and I were the ones still standing, the ones who brought it all down.

"Looks like your big plan went to hell," I said, voice steady even though my heart was racing.

Kenny raised his head, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were alive with a twisted kind of pride.

"Look at you," he rasped, a gruesome smile curling the edges of his lips as he stared at Nathan. "The killer I always knew you'd be."

Nathan just stood there, gun pointed at Kenny, a haunted look creeping into his eyes. He didn't say a word, didn't move an inch, but something about him was off.

"Shut up, Kenny," I snapped. "Your mind games won't work here."

But Nathan wasn't listening to me. His gaze flicked over Kenny's shoulder, and a shadow of fear crossed his features. I followed his line of sight, heart pounding, but all I saw was the old, dark wood of the bookcases in the library beyond.

And maybe I was reading him wrong…but I didn’t think he wanted this.

Not anymore.

Nathan's hand shook, the gun wavering like he was holding a live wire, not a piece of cold metal. Kenny, bloodied and grinning like a damn hyena, leaned back in his chair, the old wood creaking under his weight.

"Maybe the boy's got a soft heart after all," Kenny said with a laugh that grated on my nerves.

"Shut up," I snapped. My eyes stayed on Nathan, seeing him there, torn apart inside. He didn't have to be what this monster wanted.

I stepped closer, reached out, and touched Nathan's hands. They were slick with sweat and something more sinister. "Give it here, Nathan. You don't need to do this."

His eyes met mine, raw and searching. The gun felt heavy in my grip as I gently pulled it from his unresisting fingers. Nathan let out a breath, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

"Right, because you’re good guys now," Kenny spat out, chuckling like he was telling a joke nobody else got. "That's you two, huh? Why not turn me in?" He leaned back, trying to look comfortable despite the blood soaking through his shirt and staining the wood below him. His eyes fixed on Nathan. "You with your big hero complex, you'll never wash the blood from your hands, you’ll never be—"

Bang !

I looked at Kenny, saw the hole in his forehead.

I’d pulled the trigger.

Couldn’t help myself.

Silence filled the room, loud and heavy. I kept my arm straight, gun still pointed at Kenny, now slumped over, lifeless. My hand didn't shake.

It was done.

Nathan's mouth hung open, brown eyes wide. He looked from the man slumped on the table to me and back again. I could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

I let out a breath, lowered the gun, and set it on the polished wood with a soft clack. My hands were steady—too steady. I raised my eyes to meet Nathan's, saw something fierce burning in them.

"Couldn't stand one more word from him," I said, voice flat. "Not one."

Nathan just stared, his lips parted, but no sound came out. His dad, the great Kenny Zhou, done in by a single bullet. And by me, not him. He probably never imagined it going down this way.

Nathan's anger flashed for a second, his brow furrowed and his mouth set in a hard line. I braced myself, ready for a fight, ready for him to lash out at me for taking the shot he'd been dying to make.

But then, as if the anger was just smoke blown away by the wind, he stepped towards me.

Whispered my name. “Abby…”

His arms enveloped me in an embrace that knocked the breath from my lungs, not from force but from the sheer unexpected warmth of it. His face pressed into my hair, hiding from the world that had just turned on its head.

"Abby…I'm sorry." His voice muffled against me, vibrating through my skull. It was a murmur, filled with things unsaid, things we'd both lost in this twisted game.

I stood still, surprised, with my hands hanging at my sides. But then, feeling his body shaking with silent sobs, I lifted my arms and held him just as tight.

I clung to him, my hands gripping his blood-soaked shirt. The metallic tang of it filled my nostrils, mixed with the sweat and gunpowder that clung to us both. I felt the tremors that ran through him, the silent echo of his pain.

"Me too, Nathan," I whispered back, not sure what else there was to say.

We stood there, in the thick of what we'd done, holding each other together.

"Hey," I said, my voice steady. "It's gonna be okay." I pulled back just enough to see his face, the pain etched deep in the lines around his eyes. "But we’ve gotta get moving. We need to find Knuckles and Lily. We have to leave."

Nathan nodded, his jaw set tight. He let go of me, taking a step back, his eyes scanning the room like he was seeing it for the first time. "Yeah," he agreed, voice grim. "Let's grab them and get out of this mess."

I led the way, stepping over debris and shattered memories. The silence was heavy, broken only by our footsteps as we made our way through the once-grand halls of the empire that had fallen tonight.

We found Knuckles first, slumped against the wall by the door to the kill room—but alive. A small grin cracked on his face when he saw us, looking at us through his only eye not swollen shut. "You two look like hell warmed over," he joked.

“Speak for yourself,” Nathan said. “We need to get you to a damn hospital.”

“That would be great,” Knuckles winced. “Lily?”

“She’s…” I paused when I heard footsteps behind me, then I saw Lily standing in the dining room, staring at her father’s corpse. She looked up at the three of us—and she raced toward us, flinging her arms around Nathan.

"Ba…?" she asked, her voice small.

"Gone," Nathan said simply. "He won't hurt anyone ever again."

"Good," Lily whispered, gripping Nathan tighter.

I could hear sirens in the distance—but we would deal with that later. I gathered my broken family, moved them toward the door. We got Knuckles outside with Lily’s help, went to cross the threshold.

And I paused, holding onto Nathan, who had stopped dead in the doorway.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” he said. “This…fuck, it’s finally over .”

I shook my head. “Not quite yet,” I whispered. “We still need to wash the blood away.”