Page 46 of Serpent King's Prisoner

Not ever.

So why now? Why her?

“Focus, Nathan,” I muttered to myself. The Serpent wouldn’t care about my distractions. To him, it was all about control, power, and the survival of the Zhou legacy. A legacy I was born into, one that I was expected to uphold with unwavering loyalty and brutality when necessary.

I rounded the final corner and approached the steel door that served as the entrance to the main base. It was a place few knew existed and even fewer dared to enter. I pressed my palm against the cold metal, feeling the weight of my father’s expectations pressing back against me…then I put in the code on a keypad beside the door.

The lock clicked, granting me entry.

The basement was always colder than the streets above, the air thick with the scent of old concrete and rust. The dim glow from the overhead bulbs cast long shadows along the corridor as I made my way toward the heart of our operations.

This place was industrial, brutalist—but billions of dollars had moved through it over the years, the center of our network. My father’s office was at the middle of it all, a glowing golden box at the center of this temple to vice.

“Ba,” I greeted Kenny Zhou, the Serpent’s Head, as I stepped into his office. His eyes, sharp as ever, met mine with an unreadable expression. Beside him stood Knuckles, his right-hand man—the man who had been more of a father to me than my own had ever been.

“Sit down, Nathan,” my father said, motioning to the chair opposite him without breaking our eye contact.

Knuckles cleared his throat, shifting slightly in the corner of my vision. I glared at him, still frustrated about what had gone down at Grant Street Floral.

“I cleaned up the mess at the flower shop,” I muttered, shooting Knuckles a chastising glance. “No evidence left behind.”

“Good.” My father’s voice was even, but there was an edge that hadn’t been there before. “But we need to talk about your recent…activities.”

My heart pounded. They couldn’t know about Abby, could they? Did they know I was keeping her captive, that I was about to bring down hell on the Serpents…?

I leaned back, crossing my arms—maintaining a cool facade. “What about them?”

“First the man in the flower shop, now Andrew Lin. You’re getting reckless,” he accused, his tone tightening like a noose. “What happened to control, Nathan? To taking calculated risks?”

“I didn’t bring that man there,” I murmured.

“But you did kill him.”

“Because Alex had already made a mess of him,” I muttered. “You want to talk about reckless—“

“And Andrew Lin?”

I paused, my fists clenching and unclenching.

“Andrew Lin needed to be taught a lesson,” I shot back, the memory of my fists colliding with flesh still fresh. It had felt good, too good. A release that I craved more with each passing day.

“Taught a lesson?” Ba’s voice rose slightly, a dangerous sign. “You beat the hell out of him. We’re not street thugs; we’re businessmen. Our moves should be strategic, not impulsive.”

“Sometimes fear is the best strategy,” I countered, feeling the familiar fire of defiance burning within me. “Fear keeps our enemies in line.”

“Or it creates more of them,” Ba said quietly, leaning forward until we were mere inches apart. His eyes bore into mine, and for a moment, I saw the ruthless leader who had clawed his way to the top, the man who had survived years in hiding and emerged more powerful than ever.

“Control, Nathan,” he repeated, the words a mantra in this underground kingdom of ours. “Without it, you’re no better than the rabid dogs we put down.”

I held his gaze, unflinching. “I’ve got control.”

“Control?” Ba scoffed. “Let’s talk about control when it comes to that lead you followed. The one that’s landed us right where we didn’t need to be.” He leaned back, his gaze cold and calculating. “Xinyi Lin had nothing to do with the attacks on our operations. That lead was bullshit.”

A heavy silence filled the space between us. I had been so sure, so convinced that following that trail would bring us to the heart of our troubles. Yet, it had led to nothing but a dead end and more complications.

“Because of your little escapade,” he continued, his voice low and steady like the death knell of my certainty, “we now have an enemy we didn’t need. Xinyi is not someone to take lightly.”

“Then we’ll handle it,” I said, a reckless part of me ready to dive back into the fray, to fix what I’d broken.

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