Page 30 of Serpent King's Prisoner

The name coursed through me like ice water. Of course, I had—he was the stuff of whispers and nightmares within the Bureau, an assassin whose identity remind a mystery. But I couldn’t let on how much I knew. My life depended on it.

“Sounds familiar,” I said, feigning a casual ignorance, “Aren’t they…some gang assassin? Very hush-hush.”

“San Francisco’s most feared agent,” he stated simply, as though describing the weather rather than his reputation as a harbinger of death.

My heart thudded against my ribs, but I refused to let my fear show. If Nathan really was the Serpent’s Fang, then I was in deeper than I thought. Yet, here he was, revealing himself to me. So if I managed to get out of this alive, I would have information that the Bureau had been dying to find for years.

This could be a chance to gather critical intel—if I played this right.

“Sounds like it’s very impressive,” I managed to say, keeping my tone light, hoping he didn’t detect the pounding of my heart or see the calculations behind my eyes. I stared right at those dark eyes, then asked a question I didn’t even know I should ask. This one wasn’t calculated, this one was about survival. My muscles coiled tight, ready to spring, but I held still. “Why am I here again? Did we hook up or…”

The question hung between us, but I didn’t think he was buying it. I could play the fool, act like I was concussed.

He was smart, though. He’d evaded identification this long.

And now, I was nothing more than a loose end.

Nathan’s gaze didn’t waver from mine, the gun in his hand an extension of his calm yet threatening presence. “I haven’t decided yet.” His voice was even, betraying nothing of his intentions.

“So you brought me here?” I asked, my face pale.

“I did.”

He was so calm that it made me even more panicky. I was afraid–more afraid than I’d ever been. “And where is here? Where are we?”

I glanced around the sparse room, searching for clues that might reveal more than he was willing to.

“Top floor of an empty high-rise in South Beach,” he answered, and something about his straightforward honesty sent a chill through me despite the warmth of the room. “Fully secured, tinted windows. No one will find you here.”

That didn’t explain much; if it was his apartment, if I was his prisoner. The biggest question for me was why I wasn’t dead, when for all intents and purposes, I should have been made a casualty of the Triad hours ago.

Still, I got the message: I was at his mercy.

And I was fucked.

Chapter Sixteen: Nathan

Ishould’ve been worried about work…not the fucking girl back in that apartment. I pushed open the heavy back door of Grant Avenue Florals, my hand automatically smoothing over the dragon ink that crawled across my skin beneath the fabric of my shirt. The bell above the front entrance chimed a soft welcome, an ironic contrast to the tension knotted in my gut. I needed to make sure everything was in order; every stem trimmed, every petal perfect.

It was paramount the shop showed no signs of last night’s chaos…and that no one came with questions about the industrial composter I’d started in the middle of the night, containing our victim’s corpse.

“Morning, Mr. Zhou,” the clerk, Mr. Lao, greeted without missing a beat, watering the daisies with such casual normalcy you’d never guess blood had been spilled among these blooms just hours before.

“Morning,” I replied, my voice betraying none of the storm brewing inside me. “How about I make us some tea?” I offered, mustering a smile that felt out of place on my lips.

“That would be lovely,” he said, and I nodded, heading towards the small kitchenette tucked behind a curtain of hanging ivy.

With the kettle on, I let myself slip into the routine that always calmed the noise in my head. My fingers grazed the soft leaves of a peace lily as I checked for yellowing edges, the simple task grounding me.

With each plant I tended, a little more of the anxiety over leaving Abby unbound ebbed away. She wouldn’t get out; not from my apartment, not with the locks I had installed and the security measures in place. This was my world – one of delicate orchids and brutal truths, and Abby, well, she was just another unexpected variable in a game I was born to play.

As the steam began to whistle, signaling the water was ready, I poured the hot liquid over the waiting teabags, their herbal scent mixing with the earthiness of damp soil and fresh blooms. The familiar comfort of the shop slowly stitched back my composure, thread by meticulous thread.

Abby would keep until this was handled. She had to. Because right now, all that mattered was maintaining my facade…and making sure no one knew I was the one who’d disappeared the girl who worked next door.

After delivering a cup of jasmine tea to Mr. Lao, I made my way through the verdant labyrinth, each step taken with practiced ease until I reached my private sanctuary—the small greenhouse at the back of the shop. It was here, among rows of exotic plants and flowers imported from every corner of the world, that I felt a semblance of peace. This was my retreat, my escape from the bloodstained legacy of the Golden Serpents.

The serenity shattered as I remembered last night’s chaos, when Knuckles and Alex had barged in, dragging trouble into my haven. I had always asked them not to bring people here, where I ran away from the violence…and yet, the smell of disinfectant now made me wrinkle my nose, overpowering the scent of flowers.

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