9. Chapter Nine Nathan

Chapter Nine: Nathan

I was in solitary…but I wasn’t alone.

My ghosts were with me.

Time lost meaning in this hole, the endless stretch of solitary that could've been days or years. My stomach was a tight knot from hunger, but it was the craving to move, to run, to not feel caged that gnawed at me most. I used to have discipline, hard as steel, but now? Now I felt like putty, all because Abby's image wouldn’t leave my mind. Her face was the clearest thing in this fog, and it tore at me.

I spent most of my time slumped on the cot, couldn't stand the sight of the four walls any longer. I was bored, too…but I couldn’t sleep—because it was watching.

The dark, shadowy figure crouched in the corner, always there, just out of clear sight. Ma, I was starting to think. She wasn't really there, of course—just a trick of the mind. But sometimes, the stories Ba would tell crept back, about gui po , spirits with scores to settle.

I half-believed it. Was she here to haunt me?

The silence mocked me, pressing down until I could hardly breathe. The figure didn't move, didn't make a sound, just stayed crouched, watching. I shivered despite the still, stale air.

I wasn't the kind to pray or believe much in anything beyond what I could see and touch. But right then, a strange thought hit me—she needed ceremony to move on. Proper rites, something to honor her, not the cold nothing I was sure she got. It felt like an itch under my skin, this need to do something for her, but what could I do locked up in this hole?

A sudden sharp ringing blasted through my ears, so intense it felt like a drill into my skull. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it out, but it only grew louder. My head pounded with each heartbeat, each pulse ramping up the volume until the whole world was just that noise.

"Stop," I groaned through clenched teeth, pressing my palms hard against my ears.

But when I opened my eyes again, the figure had changed. It was worse now. Its mouth was wide open, wider than any mouth should be, and the ringing…it morphed into a wail, a sound no living person could make. It cut right through me, slicing past my defenses and leaving me raw, exposed—

Footsteps outside my cell snapped me back to the grim reality of prison walls, and with it, the crouched specter in the corner dissipated like smoke. My gaze jerked to the door where a sliver of light from the small window cut across the room. There was a guard there, his face hidden behind the visor of his riot helmet, looking every bit as impersonal as death itself.

"Face down on the floor, hands behind your back," he ordered, voice muffled but clear.

I obeyed without hesitation, not because I was eager to follow orders, but because I couldn't summon the will to defy him. My body felt heavy, like I was dragging chains with every movement. As I lay there, face pressed against concrete, arms pulled awkwardly behind me, a thought crept into my mind unbidden.

Was this how Abby had felt?

For weeks she'd been at my mercy, and then, by some twisted turn of fate, she became something like a companion. But she'd always been a captive, and now the tables had turned. Here I was, confined and powerless, just another pet in a cage. The guilt gnawed at me, its teeth sharp and relentless.

Maybe I should let myself die in here…maybe that would be better. But no, that'd be too easy an escape from the mess I'd made of everything. Abby deserved better than a coward's way out. She deserved—

The guards came in, swarmed me. I didn’t fight back. There was no point. They cuffed me, metal biting into my wrists, and shackled my ankles with a cold precision. Hoisting me up by my arms, they dragged me to my feet, and I stumbled forward, the world tilting around me.

"Christ, you stink," one of them muttered as we shuffled out of the cell. I didn't even have the energy to feel ashamed. What was the point? They could think what they wanted. All the fight had drained from me, leaving behind a hollow shell.

We walked down the hall, the echo of our footsteps bouncing off the walls. I figured we were headed to the showers. Maybe they were tired of my stench too. But instead of turning toward the familiar wet tile and moldy curtains, they steered me towards an interrogation room.

I didn’t say anything. No point in that either. I’d told them I wouldn’t give them anything until I had some assurances, until I’d spoken with a lawyer, and I meant it.

Plus…well, I didn’t know if I could even talk anymore.

The guards brought me into the room and cuffed me to the table, a cold ring of metal securing me in place. The room was silent except for the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. This wasn't Diane Hayes' style. She'd have been in my face already. And it couldn't be my lawyer; I hadn't called one yet.

So who then?

That’s when the door opened and in stepped Owen Harper. Abby's father. My heart kicked against my chest, not out of fear, but surprise. What game was this now?

"Harper?" I managed, my voice rough from disuse, eyes narrowed as I tried to read his play.

Owen didn't answer right away. Instead, he pulled out a chair and sat down across from me, his gaze sweeping over me. Then he leaned back, his expression tightening.

"You look like shit."

For a second, I bristled, taking it for a dig. But there was something off in his voice—not mockery, but concern. It threw me for a loop. Owen Harper, worried about me? That was new.

I shut my eyes, gathering the scraps of my composure. It felt like I had been torn from the world, my voice a distant memory. When I finally spoke, it was a low, hoarse croak that scratched its way up my throat. "What are you doing here?"

"FBI brought me in as a consultant," Owen said with a slight tilt of his head. "We’ve been allowed privacy for the sake of actually getting some information out of you…but I’m really here for Abby."

The mention of Abby's name sent a jolt through me. I needed to know she was okay, that she was safe from the chaos I'd dragged her into. "Is she…?" I couldn't finish the question, but Owen understood.

He frowned, and I felt my stomach drop, bracing for the worst. But then he shook his head slightly. "Yeah, she's okay, Nathan. Safe with your siblings."

Relief crashed over me like a wave, but it was quickly chased by the icy grip of fear. The Serpent wouldn't let this slide; he'd come for them, for all of us. "We need to be careful," I told Owen, my voice gaining some strength as I focused on what mattered most. "My father, he won't stop until he finds her—until he finds all of us."

Owen's frown deepened, his eyes dark with understanding. He knew the stakes just as much as I did. "I know. They're staying hidden for now. And you need to stay strong in here."

"Strong?" I almost laughed at the thought. Strong was the last thing I felt caged within these walls. “I’m fucking helpless in here, Owen. I can’t do anything for her.”

"Abby's smart," Owen continued, his voice firm and sure. "She will protect your family at any cost."

His words knocked the wind out of me. Protect our family? Abby? That was my job, my duty. I remembered telling Owen, begging him to get her out of California if anything ever happened to me. I always thought she'd be safer far away from the life I couldn't escape.

"Owen," I started, the weight of handcuffs reminding me of my helplessness, "I asked you to take her away if things went south. To get her out by any means…"

Owen's eyes held mine, steady and unflinching. "She won't leave, Nathan. Not now that…" He trailed off, but I could see it in his face, the grim set of his jaw. Whatever reason Abby had for staying, it was serious enough to make a man like Owen Harper pause.

It made me nervous. He was hiding something.

"Owen," I pressed, my throat dry with anxiety. "What's going on? Why did you stop talking?"

He hesitated, then his voice dropped to a murmur that filled the silence between us. "It's just…Abby was injured in the escape. Justin’s place got hit, but she’s okay. They’re all okay." His eyes didn't meet mine when he said it, and I knew there was more he wasn't saying.

“She was injured?” I asked.

"She's okay," he repeated, as if to convince himself more than me.

"Is she really?" I asked, a knot forming in my stomach. The thought of her hurt, because of this life, because of me, twisted something deep inside.

Owen rubbed his forehead, looking tired. "She's safe, Nathan. That's what matters. She's safe and with your siblings. I wouldn’t lie to you."

"Good," I managed to say, though my mind raced with worry for her. I wanted to push, to find out what he wasn’t telling me, but I let it be. There were bigger things at stake.

"Tell me, Owen. What does the FBI want from me?" I needed to understand the game they were playing.

"Your cooperation," he said bluntly. "They think you know enough to bring down the Serpents."

I scoffed. Cooperating meant betraying my family, betraying my father—the man they called the Serpent. "I won't give up my siblings, Owen. You know I can't. And Ba…if I so much as breathe a word against him, he'll have someone cut my throat before I can blink. He has people here."

Owen’s gaze hardened, and in that moment, he looked every bit the formidable man who had survived years in the brutal world we both inhabited. Given how he doted on his daughter, it was easy to forget that he was the guy who’d brought down the Rossis in Boston. "I'm here to protect my daughter, Nathan. If it comes down to it, I'll take down your father myself to keep Abby safe."

I’d never had anyone else step in to shield my family from harm. It had always been me, facing the brunt of it all. Owen's offer knocked the breath from me, as if someone had socked me in the gut.

"Speaking of which…are you alright?" Owen asked, with a hint of concern cutting through his gruff exterior.

"Alright?" I let out a harsh laugh that scraped my throat raw. The idea seemed ludicrous given the cold metal cuffing my wrists and the stink of despair clinging to my skin. Owen let out a snort, the sound bitter but somehow understanding.

I leaned forward, lowering my voice so only he could hear. "If I give you what you want…we gotta move fast. Not just for Abby—for all of them." My eyes darted around the barren room, the weight of my next words heavy on my tongue. "My whole family needs to get out of California. And me…" I paused, the finality of my situation settling in like cement around my feet. "I'll probably die in here."

Owen's eyes bore into mine, and for a moment, we were just two men bound by a common goal, stripped of the titles that made us enemies outside these walls. "You have my word, Nathan. We'll act fast. Just tell me what you know. I’ll have you put in solitary, it’s safer there—"

"No. It's hell.” I cut him off before he could build a case for the hole they threw me into. “I'll lose my mind if I go back there."

Owen's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "I'm listening," he said simply.

I sucked in a breath, steadying myself for the confession that would change everything. "The night the cops came for me…I saw something." My throat felt tight, the words struggling to come out. "I watched my father kill my mother.”

The air in the room seemed to still, heavy with the weight of what I'd just revealed. Owen's face remained unreadable, but his hand tightened imperceptibly on the table. "Your father…" he began, but couldn't seem to finish.

"Yeah," I said, my voice barely more than a rasp. "He executed her. She was behind the arson cases. Some kind of power play."

In the silence that followed, I could see the wheels turning behind Owen’s eyes. He leaned back in his chair, the distance between us now filled with the ghosts of countless unsaid things.

"Abby," I finally breathed out, the name feeling like a lifeline. "She's…she's gotta be scared, right?" The words tumbled out, heavy with guilt. "I would never hurt her. She means everything to me." But that was the sick joke of it all—I already had.

Owen’s gaze softened, just a fraction, but he didn't speak. It was my turn to fill the silence.

And for some reason—for some stupid reason—I started spilling my guts to him.

"Behind the bookcase in his study," I said, my voice steadier than I felt, "there's a room." Owen let out a short, disbelieving laugh, but it died as quickly as it came when he saw the earnestness in my eyes. "I'm serious. There's a keypad hidden in the woodwork. He thinks he's clever."

"Code?" Owen asked, his voice low.

"0524. My birthday." The numbers were etched into my mind, a code I'd dialed more times than I could count, always with a sense of dread. "You'll find what you need there. It's where they plan the hits, clean the guns, get rid of evidence. His personal slaughterhouse."

"Address," Owen pressed, his voice urgent now.

I gave him that, too. The words felt like a death sentence leaving my lips, sealing my fate. With every detail I gave, I knew I was digging my grave deeper, but it was too late for second thoughts. I'd crossed the line now.

Maybe someone would kill me and make it quick. That would spare Abby the hell of a life with me.

Or maybe this would be my salvation.

Whatever happened…it was better than this. Better than limbo.

Owen scribbled the information onto a piece of paper, his movements quick and precise. “And Serpents HQ,” I suddenly added. “It’s in the tunnels under—”

Without warning Owen shushed me and his hand shot out and grabbed mine, squeezing tight enough to ground me back into the now. I almost yanked away from the touch, not used to kindness without a price. My chest tightened, and I fought against the feeling clawing its way up my throat.

"Time's up," Owen murmured, glancing at the camera in the corner of the room with a hint of disgust.

I nodded, understanding the silent message—we weren't alone anymore. Whatever ears were listening, they didn't need to know any more. We'd said too much already, treaded on dangerous ground.

And through the haze of solitary, through my flirtation with madness…I remembered I had one more thing to tell him.

"Warn her," I whispered. My voice was rough, barely a thread of sound, but I needed Owen to hear me. "Her old boss knows she's involved. Don’t trust anyone."

He stood up and straightened out his blazer, a deliberate motion that told me he was gearing back up for the world outside this room—a world I didn't belong to anymore.

"I'll tell the guards to let you clean up, get some real food in you," he said, shaking his head with a hint of disbelief at what had become of me. "And a cell to yourself—not solitary, so you can at least see the sky. As long as you're talking, they'll want to keep you breathing."

His eyes darted to the camera again, and I understood the message. We were playing a game with high stakes—my life being one of them.

"Thank you," I rasped, the words scraping my dry throat like sandpaper. I meant it, though.

The door closed behind Owen with a soft click, leaving me alone in the cold, sterile room. That's when I saw her again, that shadowy figure crouched in the corner, eyes wide and unblinking, staring straight at me. It didn’t look anything like my mother…but now I knew it was her. A trick my mind was playing on me, a plea for justice.

"Ma," I whispered, my voice barely above the hum of silence that filled the space. "I know, Ma… I know." My gaze held steady on her, even as the chill of her imagined presence made me shiver.

I promised her, though she was just a figment of my fractured mind, "I'll make things right."

It was a vow, one I intended to keep, no matter what it took. For Ma. For Abby. For all the souls entangled in the Serpent's dark web.

I would bring it crashing down, or die trying.