7. Chapter Seven Nathan

Chapter Seven: Nathan

S houting, fighting, bleeding, and then…

…here.

I woke with a start. My head spun like I'd had one too many and my stomach churned in protest. Something wasn't right. The last thing I remembered was the sharp zap before everything went black. Now, here I was, in some cell that smelled of old sweat and despair.

Reaching up, I felt the tender spot on my neck. A tranq dart must have kissed me there. Tased plenty of times, sure, but this…this was another beast. It never put me out cold before.

The muscle cramps hit next. Damn, they were fierce. My side felt like it was stitched together with hot needles. I tried to stand, get my legs under me, stretch out the kinks.

But as soon as I moved, the tiny space I was in became all too clear.

Solitary.

Shit.

The bed was a sorry excuse for one, just a slab of cold metal bolted to the wall with a thin mattress that had seen better days. The toilet was no more than an afterthought in the corner. I looked around; there wasn't much else.

A small window sat high on the wall, barely letting in any light. I moved toward it and straightened my back to peer out. Squinting, I tried to see something, anything through it, but it was useless. All it gave me were shadows and a sliver of what could be sky, or maybe just a painted ceiling.

My heart kicked against my chest as claustrophobia began to claw at me. I couldn't stay boxed in like this. It felt all too tight, the walls pressing in.

"Hey!" My voice was stronger than I felt. "Guard!"

I stumbled to the door, gripping the bars in the small window and peering out. Down the hall, a guard glanced up from a paper he was reading, bored eyes meeting mine. He didn't move, didn't speak. Just went back to his paper like I was no more than a fly buzzing at the window.

"Come on, man," I said, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. "What's the deal here?"

Silence.

Frustrated, I backed away from the door and threw myself on the bed, the hard mattress doing nothing to cushion the force. The holding cell had been a palace compared to this. With the Cranes, there was at least something to do in protecting myself, a distraction from the mess my life had become.

But here, in this solitary box, my mind was left to run wild.

And my mind was a dangerous place.

It all hit me like a sucker punch. Ma's involvement with the arson cases, her face when she realized what was coming next. Ba—no, the Serpent—his hand steady as he pulled the trigger.

And Abby…alone, probably worried sick. Her face was the hardest to shake. We were supposed to be untouchable, but here I was, touching nothing but cold steel and rough fabric.

Crazy wasn't a place I visited; it was where I lived now. My thoughts swirled like a whirlpool, pulling me under. Ma's schemes, the people hurt, the lives scorched by her ambition. I realized I was angry with her…even as I missed her like hell. She’d done nothing but try to protect us.

Protect us from him .

The Serpent…the sadistic madman who taught me how to be a killer, standing over her body like he was judge, jury, and executioner.

"Damn it," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "How did it come to this?"

The walls of the cell seemed to inch closer, my breaths growing shallow. I closed my eyes, trying to shut it all out, but the darkness behind my lids was a canvas for my memories. Every mistake, every wrong turn, every betrayal—they played in technicolor brutality, and I was the captive audience.

I needed to move, to shake off the creeping dread that was wrapping around my chest like a vice. I stood up and tried pacing the length of the tiny cell, but it was no use. Three steps one way, a turn, and three steps back—it was a path to madness.

"Keep it together, Nathan," I whispered, trying to ground myself with the sound of my own voice.

But there wasn't enough room in this box to even follow my own advice. My skin prickled with the need to do something, anything other than sit here with my ghosts.

I tried to meditate, to find some inner peace amid the chaos of my mind. But peace was a language I never learned fluently. Every time I closed my eyes, Ma's lifeless form haunted me, and Ba's smile—a twisted grin that knew no remorse—tormented me.

"Focus, damn it," I hissed through clenched teeth, trying to will away the images. But every blink brought them back, sharper, more vivid.

"Stop thinking about it," I ordered myself.

Still, it was like telling my heart not to beat.

The walls pressed closer, the air grew thicker, and I fought for every breath as if the room itself was closing in on me. I couldn't stay still, yet there was nowhere to go. This cell was my cage, my purgatory, where I paid for sins—mine and those of my family.

I wondered if this was how Abby had felt when I kidnapped her and handcuffed her to my bed.

A blink, and my world went black. Startled awake, I sat up. The darkness was thick, suffocating.

In the corner, a shape hunched in the shadows.

Someone was there, watching me.

My heart hammered against my ribs, my breaths short and sharp.

"Who's there?" My voice came out as a croak, barely louder than the silence around me.

No answer—only the stillness of my own cell staring back. I rubbed at my eyes, hard enough to see stars. When my vision cleared, the corner was empty. Just the walls and the dark. It had to be a trick of my mind, cooked up from too much fear and too little food. I didn’t think they were allowed to withhold food when I was in here…but the rules didn’t seem to apply for me.

"Get a grip, Nathan," I muttered, but my words echoed off the walls mockingly.

I squeezed my eyes shut, desperate for a moment of peace, a single second without the weight of my past crushing me. But even behind closed lids, the horrors played on repeat. Faces of those I'd taken down, their eyes wide with terror—they flashed before me. Men who crossed Ba, enemies of the family.

Their blood was on my hands, a debt I could never repay.

"Stop it!" I shouted into the darkness, but it was like yelling into a void.

Trembling, I hugged my knees to my chest, trying to make myself smaller, invisible. Maybe if I couldn't see the room, it couldn't see me. But the phantoms didn't need light to find me. They crept into my thoughts uninvited, a parade of nightmares that wouldn't end.

Each time I blinked, a new horror emerged. There was no escape, nowhere to run. The life I'd lived, the choices I'd made—they all clawed their way into my present, demanding attention, screaming for recognition.

"Enough!" My voice cracked in the stifling silence.

The desperation to flee from my own mind clawed at me, demanding release. I couldn't stand it—the stillness, the memories—it was all too much.

Then, like a switch flipped, light flooded the cell. It poured in through the window, so bright it hurt my eyes. I squinted against it, shielding my face with my arm, but the brilliance didn’t fade. It just kept getting brighter and brighter until I had to close my eyes.

When I dared to open them again, I wasn't in the cell anymore. I was in my bedroom, the familiar scent of Abby lingering in the air—the one hint of lightness in my life of darkness. The softness of the sheets contrasted sharply with the harsh concrete of my cell floor.

"Abby?" I whispered, half-believing she'd vanish if I spoke too loud.

She was there beside me, her smile gentle as dawn. My hand rested on her belly, and beneath my palm, there was the unmistakable curve of pregnancy. My heart stuttered in my chest. This was a new dream, a different kind of vision—one filled with hope instead of despair.

"Hey," she said softly, her hand finding mine, her warmth bleeding into my cold skin. "It's going to be okay."

Her words were simple, but they carried the weight of the world. They promised a future—a family—something real and solid that I could cling to, a life raft in the stormy sea that was my reality.

"Is it?" I managed to ask, though my throat felt tight.

She pressed a kiss to my temple. “I’ve got you,” she whispered.

"Is this real? This can't be happening," I said, my voice trembling. It was too good, this quiet moment with her, too far from the grim truth of my situation.

Abby didn't let go, her fingers squeezing mine just a little tighter. "Yes, it is real," she assured me, her voice steady and sure in the haze of my disbelief. "This thing between us, the family we're about to start. You need to hold on, Nathan. Just survive."

Her words were a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge of despair. In that moment, surrounded by the softness of our would-be life, the chaos of my world stilled. Abby was my anchor, her presence a silent vow that there was something worth fighting for beyond these walls.

But then I blinked.

The warmth disappeared, replaced by a chilling emptiness. The gentle contours of our bedroom dissolved into the harsh lines of the cell. My eyes flew open, meeting only darkness. The cell was cold, unforgiving.

Moonlight snuck through the small window, a cruel mimicry of hope. It was all a dream—a hallucination. Abby wasn't here. There was no baby, no promise of a future.

There was just me, alone with the ghosts of my past.

I rubbed at my eyes, trying to erase the remnants of the dream. But instead of bringing relief, my hands came away wet with tears—tears for a life that might never be, for the love I felt slipping through my fingers.

"Damn it," I muttered to the empty room, my voice rough with emotion. I drew my knees up to my chest and let the sobs come. In the darkness of my cell, with the moon casting long shadows across the floor, I grieved for everything I'd lost—and everything I still stood to lose.

I deserved this. For a second, I was certain of it.

And I was never going to get out.