52. Chapter Fifty-Two Nathan

Chapter Fifty-Two: Nathan

O ur happy ending started in the same place as our dark beginning.

An empty apartment building in South Beach.

A prison.

Our safe place to land.

We’d brought Lily and Knuckles back to the teahouse an hour ago, the mood in the car bloodsoaked and somber. They took one look at them, beaten but breathing, and nodded like it was just another Tuesday. "We'll handle it," Xinyi had said before sending us off. “Get some sleep.”

Home wasn't an option; cops would be crawling all over South Beach by now.

So here we were, back to square one.

We hit the button for the elevator from the parking garage, its metal doors grinding open like it had been waiting just for us. The ride up felt like a lifetime, each floor passing slower than the last. Inside the apartment, that damn side table lay on its side where I'd kicked it in a rage earlier. It screamed disorder in a space that used to be all about control, my control.

But now, none of that mattered.

We were alive.

"Shower," Abby muttered, her voice barely there, and I could only nod as we stumbled toward the bathroom together. The cold tiles under our feet were a stark reminder of the night's chaos.i really just

I turned on the water, watching it cascade from the showerhead, a temporary waterfall in a world gone dry. We stepped in without a word, letting the stream wash over us. It wasn't until I looked down and saw the red swirling around the drain that it really hit me. Blood, so much of it—ours, Diane’s, Ba’s, Knuckles’—mixing with the water, painting a grim picture of the night's cost.

"Fucking hell," I whispered, more to myself than to her, as I noticed the extent of our cuts and bruises, souvenirs from hell.

"Almost missed a spot," she said, her attempt at lightness falling flat against the exhaustion lining her face. It must've been three A.M., and every part of me ached. Abby leaned into me, her body speaking volumes of the pain she carried.

"Let's just get through this," I said, feeling her nod against my chest. We cleaned ourselves in silence, the water slowly running clear again, washing away the evidence but not the memory.

Not yet.

We turned off the water, and I grabbed a couple of towels, tossing one to Abby. We dried off in silence. The cuts stung as the rough fabric passed over them, but neither of us complained.

"Bed," I grumbled, my voice hoarse from exhaustion.

"Bed," she agreed, just as worn out.

We left damp footprints on the wood floor as we made our way to the bedroom, then crawled beneath the sheets. We were still soaking, but neither of us cared enough to do anything about it. We fell onto the bed, our bodies heavy with more than just tiredness. She was close, her breath even and slow, signaling the edge of sleep.

I closed my eyes, letting the darkness take me too.

Then I opened them—or at least it felt that way—to dawn light creeping through the blinds.

I took a deep breath, then exhaled. My muscles felt loose for the first time in months, years…maybe a lifetime. The usual pressing dread that knotted my stomach each morning was gone.

I sat up, careful not to wake Abby. I looked around at the room where I’d once kept her prisoner, where I’d grappled with who I was and who I wanted to be. No ghosts haunted the corners or whispered old family sins. The angry spirit of my mother that had always seemed to lurk just out of sight was absent.

"Free," I whispered to the empty air, testing the word. It fit, settling into the space where fear and obligation used to live.

My hand reached out for the phone, fingers brushing against the cool surface before I picked it up.

Light from the screen hit my eyes like a punch, but I blinked through it to see a string of notifications. A text from Lily first, three simple words that meant the world: "I love you." Next, Alex's message, a virtual pat on the back: "Proud of you, man." Then Justin's stream of gratitude, his words piling on each other: "Thank you thank you thank you."

Owen's text came next, straight to the point. "You guys good?" followed by, "Just talked to Knuckles at the hospital. He's holding up." Another message from him waited, cementing our safety: "Got to the scene first. Your prints are gone."

I let out a breath long held—not because of fear, but relief. The last message sealed everything. "Kenny Zhou's dead. Laundering places burned. Serpents done."

That was it.

The end of a reign of terror that had lasted too long.

"Damn." The word slipped out, more to myself than anyone else. Abby stirred next to me, but I kept my eyes on the phone, letting the reality sink in. The fight, the bloodshed, the constant looking over our shoulders—it was all finished.

"Hey," she murmured, voice rough with sleep.

I put the phone aside. She was more important.

"Hey yourself," I said. I lay back down and turned to her, my fingers brushing away strands of dark hair from her face. Her eyes locked onto mine, brow creasing in a frown.

"Is it over?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yep," I replied, the word feeling foreign but true.

She let out a harsh exhale, like she'd been underwater for too long. "It feels like I can breathe for the first time. You?"

"Exactly like that."

Her eyes held mine a moment longer, searching for any hint of the lie. But there was none. We were free.

"Okay…” she trailed off. “So what now?"

I shrugged. "We love each other. Rebuild as Vipers…try not to traumatize our kid."

She snorted at that, a sound so normal it felt out of place after last night. Then she chuckled, a low, throaty laugh that nudged at my own tension.

And just like when we’d accidentally killed her partner, we started laughing.

It was the kind of laugh that didn't know if it wanted to be a sob or a cheer, but it didn't matter. We laughed because it was over, because we could, because it beat crying any day of the week. We clung to each other, our laughter booming through the apartment like it was trying to shake the walls down. Abby's body shook against mine, her face buried in my chest as I tried to catch my breath. It was that deep, guttural laugh, the kind you can't fake or force.

It felt good, like we were coughing up all the shadows that had lived inside us for too long.

But then, the laughter faded, and a heavy sigh pushed its way out of my lungs. We were teetering on the edge, the kind of moment that could flip to tears just as quick as it had to joy.

I leaned back just enough to see her face, bringing my forehead down to touch hers. "Abby," I said, my voice rough from the laughing, "you're the most beautiful—and the most terrifying—woman I've ever met."

Her eyes locked onto mine, fierce and alive. She didn't look away or blush. That wasn't her style.

"Good," she replied, her words strong and certain. "Wouldn't want to be anything less for you."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," I told her, and meant every damn word.

We were still catching our breaths, the laughter lingering in the air when Abby's eyes found mine, her voice quiet but carrying weight. "How are you holding up with all of this?"

I gave a short laugh, a bitter sound that didn't fit the moment. "Uh…I don't know. You murdered my father last night."

"Come on, Nathan," she pushed, rolling her eyes. "Be serious for a second."

I felt something shift inside me, and it wasn't the kind of thing I could easily shove aside. "Yeah," I said, my voice dropping to a near whisper as I looked away from those searching eyes of hers. "It's just…a lot, you know?"

She watched me, listening. She didn’t offer her opinion—not now. I reached for her hand, felt the warmth of her fingers entwining with mine.

"My old man," I started, not sure where to go from there. But then the words just came. "He tried to make me into something I wasn't. Something I never wanted to be."

Abby squeezed my hand, saying nothing, waiting for me to find the end of that thread.

"Today, right now, I'm free. Free to be who I want. Maybe I won't ever be the best guy out there, but at least I won't be cruel." It was a promise, to her, to myself…to our baby.

She nodded, that fierce look in her eyes softening for a moment. "Are you mad at me for pulling the trigger?"

"Mad?" I shook my head, staring hard into her eyes. "No, I'm glad you did it. If I'd been the one to do it, I would’ve proved him right. Proved I was the monster he always said I was."

"Stop worrying, Nathan," Abby's voice cut through the silence of the room. "You were never the monster he said you were."

I looked at her, this woman who had seen me at my worst and still stuck around. Her words hit home, hard and true. I nodded slowly, letting the meaning sink in.

“So…not a monster,” I said. “But maybe a bit of an asshole.”

“Definitely an asshole,” she laughed.

I stared at her, wanting to say so much more…but unable to find the words.

So I kissed her.

I channeled everything I felt into that kiss—and even as I did, I knew I didn’t have to. We had years to tell each other how we felt, to learn new ways to show it.

Then I just started to enjoy her.

My hands roamed over her skin, warm under the blankets, still naked after we’d crawled into bed last night. I gripped her ass and pulled her to me, gentle, but firm. I wanted her. I wanted to feel her, to start the first day of the rest of our lives the right way .

Together.

Making love.

“Is it wrong that I’m horny right now?” she whispered, smiling softly.

I shook my head. “There’s never been a time when I didn’t want you,” I replied.

I pulled her over me, ignorant to all the places I’d been injured last night, focusing on the sensation of her body against mine. Abby rolled her hips, eyes darting from my face to the bedposts.

“Hey,” she whispered, dragging her hips along my hardening cock…making me crazy, just like she always did.

“Yeah?”

“I know you’re turning a new leaf…but will you still tie me up here every so often and call me your whore?”

I chuckled, reaching up to tweak her breasts. “Well, you are.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah,” I growled. “So fucking wet for me already…like always. You’re always hungry for my cock, aren’t you?”

She groaned, grinding against me. My head spun with desire.

"Absolutely," she moaned, arching her back. "I can't get enough of your cock."

I grinned, feeling my own hunger grow. "Well, then," I said, my voice low and teasing. "Let's get started.”

I held her hips in my hands, lowered her down onto me. She squeezed around my shaft as she sank down, taking me in, riding me. Her lips parted; I reached up with one hand to slide my fingers inside, letting her suck on them.

“That’s right,” I rasped. “Take it, beautiful.”

She sucked hard on my fingers, let me choke her with them. When I pulled them out, they popped free, Abby’s lips glistening as her pussy clenched.

“Fuck me, Nathan,” she moaned.

“Gladly…Mrs. Zhou.”

I rolled her over, Abby squeaking in surprise as I laid her out beneath me, still nestled inside her. Her eyes locked on mine as I grasped the headboard, bracing myself on the pillow with my other hand. Her ankles locked together at the small of my back, dragging me in.

“Glad you didn’t kill me?” she asked.

“Fuck yes,” I moaned.

Then I was fucking her hard, fast and deep. Everything else fell away. It was just us. The world outside didn't exist anymore.

Abby met each thrust with a soft cry or moan, her body undulating beneath mine. She grabbed my face, kissing me with desperation as our bodies collided, skin slapping against skin, muscles straining.

I thrust harder, my heart pounding with each downstroke. My cock slid in and out of her with ease, slick with arousal. She was so wet, so perfect. She wrapped her legs around me, pulling me in deeper.

"Fuck, Nathan," she panted, "I'm so close. Don't stop."

“You love the way I fuck you, don’t you?” I asked, gasping for breath.

Abby let out a throaty laugh. “Of course. I’m your whore, remember?”

“Good girl,” I growled, thrusting deeper.

She bit her lip, a look of pure pleasure on her face. I could see her emotions as if they were on display for the world to see. She wanted this, needed it.

We were made for each other.

“Abby,” I whispered, my voice raw and hoarse. “I love you.”

She smiled, her eyes glistening. “I love…I love you too, Nathan…oh fuck …”

Then she was clenching around me, her body twitching, shaking. She grabbed me by the neck and pulled herself up until she was clinging to me, our tongues tangling together, her moans filling my ears, my lungs.

I loved her.

I loved her so much I couldn’t breathe.

And she was all mine…for the rest of our lives.

At just the thought of it, I felt myself following her over the edge—and my body shuddered a moment later, my cock aching as I exploded inside her. Abby moaned, parted from my lips, met my eyes. She was my avenging goddess, my viper queen.

I’d give her everything I had.

I felt the final moments fade…felt her go limp. Together, we slumped to the bed, my softening cock still inside her.

Her voice came to me soft and slow…fingers tangling in my hair, brushing through it.

“Does this count as a honeymoon?” she was asking.

I raised my head to give her a quizzical look—and she burst out laughing. I scowled, shaking my head.

“Your face,” she laughed. “I swear…sometimes I think you’re hilarious, other times you can’t seem to take a joke.”

I propped myself on my elbow, pulled out. “I told you we’re having a real wedding,” I chided. “So yesterday didn’t count.”

“But you called me Mrs. Zhou.”

“Would you prefer ‘hole?’”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

I fixed my gaze on her, couldn’t suppress the smile that crept over my features. She laughed and raised her head to kiss me on the cheek.

“Where will we go for our honeymoon?” she asked.

“Ideally somewhere nobody knows us…and where they don’t have an arson problem.”

“So not San Francisco?”

“Not San Francisco.”

“And then?”

I frowned, cocked my head. “You know…I don’t think that’s on the agenda just yet. All I want is to think about us.”

She reached up and touched my face, smiling.

“Okay,” she said. “That sounds just grand to me.”