Page 26 of Serpent King's Prisoner

“Enough,” a voice commanded, a voice I thought I recognized.

But…it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be, I told myself.

Footsteps echoed, retreating. I held my breath, willing myself to become invisible. A part of me wanted to chase the fading sounds, another part screamed to run away. But I stayed rooted, caught in the gravity of my mission, of the truth that lay just beyond the veil of darkness.

I bit my lip, a bitter taste spreading across my tongue as I crouched in the darkness. The man from earlier that night, the one who made my world spin and my heart race, was a Triad member. Nathan wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t a member of the Triad.

That meant he was part of the Golden Serpents–the most feared gang in San Francisco. And here I was, hugging an alley wall, trying to convince myself that the warmth I felt beneath his touch wasn’t real. It couldn’t be—not when it could’ve been the last sensation I ever felt.

“Stupid,” I muttered under my breath, angry tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. How had I let myself get swept up by someone so dangerous? How had I let it feel so good?

I hated to admit it to myself, but I should have listened to Matthews.

The door near me swung open, spilling light onto the pavement. Two men I hadn’t seen before emerged, their silhouettes stark against the harsh brightness. I fumbled with my phone, the record button now a lifeline as I shifted to the camera. My hands shook as I took a video, then stopped to snap a picture and then another, capturing their retreat—evidence, I hoped.

As they walked away, I eyed the empty space where they had been, half-expecting Nathan to materialize out of thin air. But he didn’t. Doubt crept in, weaving through my thoughts. What if Nathan wasn’t part of this violent bullshit?

What if he was a victim in all of this?

But there was no way. He had been called to this.

How could he be the victim? Unless, of course, it was a trap. Men on the periphery of crime often fell victim to traps…

I pocketed my phone and hugged my arms close, feeling the chill of the night cling to my skin. Nathan’s absence gnawed at me, a puzzle I couldn’t solve, a story I couldn’t read. In the quiet that followed, I realized the true depth of the waters I’d waded into—and how desperately I needed to keep swimming.

I hesitated, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and fear. Every instinct screamed at me to turn back, to run and never stop until I reached the safety of my apartment, until this night was nothing more than a bad dream. But Nate...he could be hurt, or worse.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, summoning every bit of courage I’d inherited from my dad, the Boston cop who’d faced down his own share of monsters. I had become an FBI agent for a reason, and I was going to make him proud.

I crept forward, my footsteps silent against the grimy concrete, my heart pounding out a frantic rhythm.

The alley stretched before me like the throat of some beast, dark and suffocating. I knew I just had to go in–but I took my time, past a dumpster that reeked of decay, past shadows that seemed to watch and shift with unseen eyes.

The further I went, the louder the silence became, until it roared in my ears.

And that was when I saw him.

Not beaten or bloodied as I had feared, but standing over a tarp-covered shape, his hands crimson, his expression unreadable.

But the shape wasn’t all covered.

I held back a scream as I looked at the spectacle in front of me.

Nathan was methodically dismembering a body, a task he performed with the same precision and care he might have used to tend to his flowers, his skin glistening with sweat.

This had been crazy.

I had to run.

I had to get away…before this man saw me and killed me.

Chapter Fourteen: Nathan

I’d done this for what felt like a million times…and yet, I never got used to the smell.

My hands were steady; they had to be. The blade moved with precision, the way my father taught me—clean, efficient, emotionless. It was just another task, like watering the flowers all around me—the only witnesses to the carnage.

But then, movement caught my eye. I glanced up, and there she was.

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