Page 24 of Serpent King's Prisoner

“Shut him up,” I muttered, and Knuckles went around behind Mark to gag him with a dirty rag as tears poured down his cheeks from wide, bloodshot eyes. He couldn’t look away from his mangled hand, until I came closer again…then he looked really fucking scared.

I knelt, reaching forward to wipe my shears against his jeans. “Hurts, doesn’t it? And you’ve got nine more…then I can move on to your toes, if you haven’t given me what I want. We could be here all night, and the cops wouldn’t dare step foot this deep in our territory.”

Mark was sobbing now, and I looked him in the eye.

“Last chance,” I said, my voice echoing off the concrete walls of the flower shop’s back room. “Did Xinyi send you?”

Knuckles removed the gag, and Mark took a shuddering breath…

…then spat on my fucking shoe.

“Wrong answer.”

I snipped the pinkie on his other hand with the shears, and Knuckles gagged him again when he howled.

“I don’t know what the hell your aunt is playing at,” I muttered. “But my family rules the Serpents—and there’s no fucking way you’re getting away with this. If you give me the names of the people in charge, I can let you live, but otherwise…well, you know what happens to those who threaten me, and I’m pretty sure your finger was on the trigger the other night. So what’ll it be, Mark?”

Knuckles took out the gag one last time and Mark sneered.

“Go to hell,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“Been there,” I quipped, “they kicked me out.”

I moved toward him with the shears again—but something was wrong—and I noticed too late that his wrists were free. He lunged all of a sudden, rushing from his seat.

Not toward the door…toward me.

“Damn it!” Alex cursed, stepping back, his hand reaching for his gun.

Mark was on me before I could tighten my grip on the shears, his desperation giving him the strength of a cornered beast. His hands reached for my throat, eyes wild with the need to survive. I grappled with him, feeling the weight of his body and the heat of his breath.

“Knuckles!” I shouted, struggling under Mark’s assault. He was all flailing limbs and raw survival instinct, but he’d underestimated one thing—my crew’s loyalty.

The sound split the air, a definitive crack that echoed off the walls of the flower shop’s back room. The weight on me vanished as if it had never been there at all. I looked up just in time to see Mark’s lifeless form crumple to the floor, a clean bullet hole between his eyes.

“Damn it, Knuckles!” Alex’s voice was a mixture of rage and disbelief. “What the hell?”

I pushed myself up, brushing dust from my clothes. Blood pooled beneath the dead man’s head, seeping through the cracks in the concrete floor. I felt more than saw Knuckles standing there, gun still raised, the barrel smoking like a chimney on a cold winter’s night.

“My job is to protect you two,” he said flatly, meeting my gaze. There was no regret in those brown eyes, just the unwavering resolve of a man who knew the rules of our world. “Your father would have my head if I let something happen to either one of you.”

“Protect? We needed him to talk, not to take a damn dirt nap!” Alex’s fists clenched at his sides, his anger palpable enough to spark flames.

“Enough,” I growled, my own temper simmering beneath the surface. “This mess isn’t going to clean itself up.”

I walked over to the body, avoiding the growing pool of blood. My mind raced; this wasn’t just any guy—it was Xinyi Lin’s nephew. It was likely Xinyi was already gunning for us, and now she would be out for blood.

Plus, I couldn’t pin anything on her. Mark was a gangbanger…not a firm lead.

I’d left Abby behind for this.

“Get out of here. Both of you.” I didn’t look at them, my focus on the corpse. “I’ll handle this.”

“Come on, Alex,” Knuckles said, holstering his weapon. “Let Fangs do his thing.”

But I could feel Alex’s stare, hot and heavy on my back. He lingered, perhaps wanting to challenge me, or maybe just to vent his frustration. In the end, he followed Knuckles without another word. The door swung shut behind them, leaving me alone with the dead man and the scent of fresh blood mingling with the earthy fragrance of potted orchids.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now,” I muttered to the silent figure on the floor. I wasn’t sure if I was talking to him or myself. But as I started rolling the body onto a tarp, I knew that this was yet another dark turn in the already twisted path I walked—a path lined with secrets, betrayal, and a love for things that grew in darkness.

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