Page 115 of Serpent King's Prisoner

“I think…” I paused, wondering if this was the right move. I didn’t want them to think I was too smart for my own good–but I needed in, and there was no better way to prove my allegiance to the family than playing a part. “We need to make sure that Alex was actually responsible,” I continued. “This is more complicated than that–but it’s definitely personal. Nathan and I talked and ruled out a power play from the Cranes or any other enemy; whoever it is wants to focus on you, Mr. Zhou.”

Kenny listened, his face unreadable, while we dissected each possibility, prodding at weak spots and bolstering strengths. Every so often, Nathan would throw in a comment or an idea, and I couldn’t help but be drawn to him. The way his lips quirked up slightly when I made a particularly good point, the intensity in his stare—it was all kind of...electrifying.

I liked helping him.

I wanted his approval.

“Enough,” Kenny finally declared, breaking the strategic spell woven around us. “We move forward with caution. Our security needs to be tighter than ever. Each of you—all of you—will have an increase in protection.”

He glanced around the room, his eyes settling on each of us like a benediction—or a warning. “And we’re going to start having weekly dinners. Family dinners, where we can touch base, make sure we’re all on the same page.”

“Family dinners?” Justin muttered, his brows raised almost comically high. “What are we, the Brady Bunch?”

“If that’s what it takes for me to actually get to know my children, yes,” Kenny said, an edge to his voice I hadn’t expected.

I looked at Nathan, who nodded slightly, a silent promise passing between us. We were in this together—against a common enemy, forging alliances that were as dangerous as they were necessary. And somewhere between the scheming and the fear, I realized that the line between duty and desire was blurring, threatening to disappear entirely.

“Agreed,” Nathan’s voice was the first to break the silence that had settled over us like a thick fog. Around the room, nods followed suit, a silent chorus of assent.

“Then it’s done,” Kenny said, his tone final. He gave us all a curt nod and then gestured towards the door. “Dinner is finished, and you’re all free to make your way to your own homes. I need to talk to my wife.”

One by one, we collected our belongings—the sounds of zippers closing and leather creaking filled the space with mundane normalcy. It was almost easy to forget the dark undercurrents swirling beneath this family’s surface. Almost.

As we moved toward the exit, Evelyn stood by the doorway, her silhouette framed against the warm glow of the hallway light. Her eyes met mine for a moment, a spark of something unreadable flickering within their depths before she turned her attention to the others. She kissed each of her children on the cheek, whispering words like sacred blessings. “I love you,” she told them, her voice a soft melody against the harshness of our world.

Then her hand shot out, quick as a viper, and latched onto Nathan’s arm. “Nathan,” she said in Mandarin, her tone suddenly serious, “you’re going to marry her, aren’t you?”

I pretended to check my chipping nail polish, my breath catching in my throat. I couldn’t exactly let them know that I spoke Mandarin right then.

His eyes never left mine as he spoke the word that would change everything. “Yes.”

But of course I couldn’t speak Mandarin, at least not as far as he knew. So I offered him a smile and what I hoped was a quizzical look.

Evelyn released him, giving me a smile that held a lifetime of understanding, and I wondered if she, too, knew what it was like to have her heart pulled in two opposite directions.

“Good,” she said in English, but her eyes—those knowing, depthless pools—seemed to say so much more. “It was so, so nice to meet you, Abby.”

“You too, Mrs. Zhou,” I replied. “See you soon.”

Nathan walked over to me, taking my hand in his, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it.

“Let’s get you home, Abby,” he murmured against my skin, sending a shiver up my spine.

As I followed him down the winding corridors and out onto the lamp-lit streets of San Francisco, I couldn’t help but replay that single, damning word over and over in my mind. Yes. He had said yes.

And we were going home.

And for the first time, damn him, it definitely felt like it was home.

Chapter Fifty-Two: Abby

The city lights blurred past the window, smears of neon on the black canvas of night as Nathan’s car ate up the miles back to his place. The leather seat felt too soft beneath me, too much like a throne I never asked to sit on. My stomach churned with each bit of praise he offered, trying to balance on the tightrope between my cover and the truth that was threatening to spill over.

“You handled yourself well tonight,” Nathan said, his voice smooth, almost proud. I glanced at him, the man who was both my captor and...what?

Not my savior. Never that.

Because that dinner…it had made me feel loved and wanted at the same time that it had destroyed me. I should have been basking in his praise–and maybe I would have been, if it weren’t for how he’d treated me the day before.

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