Page 88 of Serpent King's Prisoner

The car’s engine hummed a low growl as I navigated the dusky streets towards the Tenderloin. The dashboard lights cast an amber glow on Abby’s profile, her expression serious as she recited our cover story with precision. Her green eyes flicked to mine in the rearview mirror, seeking confirmation.

“We met outside the flower shop,” she said, her voice steady but I could hear the undercurrent of nerves. She tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear, a habit I’d come to recognize when she was focusing. “You gave me a bouquet.”

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road, but my grip on the steering wheel tightened. That part was true…but it was what came after that made me nervous. “And I couldn’t resist your charm. Then we met at the club later, talked all night…I took you home, and we spent four days together.”

“Exactly.” She leaned back, folding her arms. “It’s simple. Stick to the script. My dad won’t want to know the gory details anyway.”

“Right,” I murmured, though my mind was racing with every possible thing that could go wrong. I didn’t need to remind myself how high the stakes were; one slip could mean the end for both of us.

The Copper Spoon soon loomed into view, its sign an oasis of light in the creeping shadows of evening. I parked the sleek sedan along the street, and there he was.

Owen Harper. Abby’s dad.

He had the same arresting emerald gaze that could cut through lies like they were nothing. A retired cop with a reputation for being unshakeable, and now, he was about to meet me, Nathan Zhou—Fangs—the man who had built his life on secrets.

He had no idea who I was, but I’d done my research on him. He was somewhat of a legend on the east coast—notorious for taking down the Rossi family—and he’d worked in vice most of his life.

I had to be careful.

“Remember, deep breaths,” I told Abby, though it felt more like a reminder for myself.

But she was already opening the door, stepping out in a hurry. Her dad hadn’t seen us yet, but she’d seen him—and she was ready to reunite with him.

“Abby,” I called out, my tone betraying a hint of the panic that was starting to claw at the edges of my composure.

She turned to me, her green eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that almost made me forget myself. “It’ll be fine, Nathan. Trust me,” she whispered.

And then she was out of the car before I could say another word.

I watched, heart hammering against my ribcage, as she strode towards the man who shared her sharp features and that same determined glint in his eyes. The moment Abby’s arms wrapped around her father in a hurried embrace, something inside me twisted uncomfortably. It wasn’t just the fear of being exposed; it was seeing them together—a family reunited after so much time apart.

Her dad’s arms enveloped her, and even from the distance, I could see the release of tension in his shoulders, the unspoken relief flooding through him. For a split second, I envied them that simple human connection, untainted by the dark world I inhabited.

My father had threatened to kill her as leverage over me.

Her father…she actually liked him.

Why had I brought her into my twisted life?

I got out of the car and shut the door, locked it, walked toward them. They were still locked in a hug, and I heard him murmur, “God, I was so worried, Sprout,” as I came closer.

Sprout.

It made my stomach twist…because this wasn’t just the woman who’d caught me in the act, the woman who’d captured my heart.

She was somebody’s daughter. This man’s daughter.

The sight of tears welling up in his eyes made me feel like an intruder on this intimate moment. He brushed them away with the back of his hand, a gesture so swift it was as if he was refusing to acknowledge their existence.

“Hey there,” he said, turning to me with an outstretched hand, the lines on his face rearranging into a welcoming smile. He was a fit older man, clearly still in the business of putting criminals away—with sharp eyes and a neatly trimmed grey beard. “You must be Nathan, the mysterious boyfriend. I’m Owen Harper.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Harper,” I said as I shook his hand, feeling the firm grip of a man who’d spent a lifetime upholding the law—a stark reminder of the world Abby came from and the one I was dragging her into.

We walked into the Copper Spoon together, the bell above the door announcing our arrival. The place was quiet, almost too quiet for comfort, with only a few patrons scattered around the tables. Their badges glinted under the ambient light, catching my attention immediately.

Cops. A room full of them.

My instincts screamed at me to get out, to take Abby and disappear into the night where we belonged. But I couldn’t. Not now. Not with Owen Harper scrutinizing my every move, searching for the truth behind the mask I wore.

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