Page 85 of Serpent King's Prisoner

I swallowed hard, the taste of dread bitter on my tongue. I had put a GPS tracker around Abby’s neck, disguised as a gift—a collar to keep her safe. But the truth gnawed at me like a hungry rat: it wasn’t just for her safety. It was for mine, too.

Because if she was ever taken from me, I’d burn the world to ashes to get her back.

“Understood,” I managed, my mind racing with the gravity of my next moves. “I’ll find the rat.”

“Good.” Ba nodded, satisfied. “Because remember, Nathan, in our business, love is leverage—and now, I have leverage over you.”

The unspoken threat hung between us, a dark cloud threatening a storm. I needed to protect Abby, even from my own father if necessary. But first, I had to sniff out the betrayer in our midst, all while keeping the façade that nothing had changed.

I left the den with a new weight on my shoulders and a resolve as cold as steel. Abby was mine, and I would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

No matter what or who I had to face—even if it meant standing up to the Serpent himself.

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Abby

I’d spent the day doing something I never expected: getting to know this man.

And was there an easier way than going through his belongings?

I moved quietly through Nathan’s apartment, a silent observer in a world that wasn’t mine. The sunlight poured in through floor-to-ceiling windows, catching on the lush leaves of countless plants and throwing dappled shadows across the sleek marble floors. It was a jungle in here, an oasis of green thriving amid the stark modernity.

I traced my fingers over the spines of books lining his shelves, half-expecting to find some secret switch or hidden compartment. But all I found were titles that spoke of a man who craved knowledge, from philosophy to botany. It was so strange. I wonder when he had time to read.

Slipping into his bedroom, I felt dwarfed by the sheer luxury of it. His clothes hung meticulously organized in the walk-in closet—an array of designer brands that whispered wealth and power. Loro Piana, Tom Ford...names I knew, but then there were others, stitched with elegance I couldn’t pronounce. I plucked at the fabric of a cashmere sweater; the price tag alone could cover my rent for a year.

I couldn’t help but scoff softly. The man ran a flower shop, yet he lived like this? That was a dumb cover, and Nathan didn’t strike me as dumb. So there had to be something to that.

His watches gleamed under the soft lighting, rows upon rows of meticulous craftsmanship. Shoes lined the floor below, leather polished to perfection.

Wrapped in the comfort of my own sweater, I caught a whiff of something musky, something intimately Nathan, and I froze. How could I still be carrying the scent of our last encounter when I had so many reasons to scrub him off me? Shaking my head, I pushed away the thought and focused on the task at hand.

A deep breath steadied my nerves as I began my real mission: surveillance. The cameras were subtle, hidden within the intricate design of the apartment. I made mental notes of their positions, mapping out blind spots and calculating angles. But when I stumbled upon another room–I didn’t know what it was–the door was secured with a keypad and my heart sank. Another barrier between me and freedom.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, pressing my ear against the cool metal, as if I could hear the secrets locked within. I was an FBI agent, trained to find a way out of any situation. But Nathan had built a fortress, not just around his home, but around his heart—and I was trapped inside both.

I pushed the unease aside and retreated back to the ostentatious closet, where rows upon rows of clothes hung with militant precision. Nathan had bought me activewear—tight leggings and a breathable top that felt too expensive for sweat. With a grimace, I slipped into them, my skin still crawling from his unwanted generosity.

I found my way to his home gym and ran, letting the rhythm of my footsteps drown out the chaos in my head. I opened the windows so I could feel the air in the room. I thought it might make me feel better, but it was just a bitter reminder that freedom was just an illusion.

I needed a moment, just one moment of solace. The bathroom beckoned like a sanctuary. I let the water run, steam clouding the mirror as I sank into the bath. The warm bubbles embraced me, a tender touch that soothed the now-fading bruises he’d left on my body while I was in that empty apartment building.

Now I was here–in a gorgeous apartment with everything I could ever need. This…it was getting too comfortable. I had been waiting so long to make a move, languishing in my job at the café–and now, I was here in Nathan’s house, and I had to admit that I liked it. I toyed with the pendant at my neck, sliding the chain around to look at the clasp. Or…not a clasp–a lock.

It wasn’t a necklace; it was a collar.

My core clenched at the realization, the reminder of how fully I belonged to him. My fingers trailed down my torso, between my legs–

“Abby?” Nathan’s voice cut through the calm, reverberating against the tiled walls.

“Up here!” I called out, my voice steady despite the tremors of anxiety that threatened to break through.

Nathan’s heavy footsteps approached, each thud in sync with the beating of my heart. I watched the door, the glass of it fogging with humidity, distorting his form as he paused on the threshold.

“Hey,” I said, feigning nonchalance. “How was your day?”

“Awful,” he admitted, his silhouette leaning against the door frame. “I’m in deep shit with my father.”

For a moment, I saw vulnerability flash in his eyes before they darkened, not with regret, but with something more primal. His gaze fixed on me, lingering on the curves the soapy water couldn’t hide.

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