Page 9 of Serpent King's Prisoner

“Dig in, everyone,” Ma’s voice was cheerful, but it barely masked the undercurrent of worry that laced her words.

I took a slice, the crust crumbling under the weight of my fork. It should’ve been comforting, this familiar end to a family meal, but instead, it sat in my stomach like lead. I watched as Justin hesitantly reached for a piece, his earlier defiance replaced by a quiet acceptance. Ba had always let us graduate from college before looping us in on the family business—but I guessed that Justin wouldn’t get the same courtesy.

“Thanks, Ma, it looks amazing,” Lily said, shooting me a quick glance that spoke volumes. She knew, just like I did, that the sweetness of the pie couldn’t smooth out the jagged edge of Ba’s earlier decree.

We ate, the room filled with the sounds of silverware against plates, as if it was punctuating the silence. Each bite was mechanical; every chew felt like a step further into a territory we all wished to avoid. But avoidance wasn’t in our blood—confrontation was.

And yet, we were told to keep our eyes open, not for the enemy at the gates, but for the traitor within.

Who was it?

Could it be one of my brothers, hungry for power? A trusted general?

Threats were everywhere.

“Pass the whipped cream, will you?” Alex asked, his voice cutting through the tension. I looked up at him and met his eyes, trying to peer into his soul to see if any secrets lurked there. He had the ambition to fuck us over, but he was loyal to the family. I had to believe that if I didn’t want to drive myself insane.

He cocked his head at me. “Uh…the whipped cream, Nathan?”

I swallowed hard and nodded before passing it over.

Couldn’t be him.

Conversation was sparse, the usual banter that came so easily to us now choked by the threat that lurked unseen. It hung there, a specter at the feast, feeding on our unease. I caught Lily’s eye again, and she gave a small nod. She was strong, ready to face whatever came. But the knowledge that danger might come from someone sharing this very table cast a long shadow over the flickering candlelight.

“Delicious as always, Evelyn,” Ba finally said, breaking the silence that had settled once more. His compliment was genuine, but it was also a signal—the discussion about trust and betrayal was over for now.

“Thank you, dear,” Ma replied, her smile soft but not reaching her eyes.

As the last bites of pie were finished, and the plates cleared away, the room seemed to get darker, the air heavier. The evening wound down, but the words spoken tonight would linger, heavy as the fog that blanketed the city outside our windows.

And my family would never be the same.

Chapter Five: Nathan

Now that dinner was over, it was time for business.

As Lily and Justin’s car rolled away into the night, I turned back to the house that doubled as a well-disguised fortress. Mom’s voice cut through the still evening air, “Nathan, Alex, you boys need anything before I head up?”

“Goodnight, Ma,” I said, catching the glance she shot toward Ba. It was that look—a silent conversation in a fleeting exchange—that told me this wasn’t just any other night.

“Night,” Alex muttered, more to the ground than to her.

“Goodnight, Evelyn,” Ba said, his tone flat, dismissive almost, as if the mother of his children were no more than another soldier asking for orders.

I hated him sometimes…but I supposed that was the price you paid to have an entire criminal organization respect you, bow down to you.

I would have to be like him one day.

We watched her ascend the staircase, her figure disappearing from view—and with it, any pretense of normalcy. As soon as her footsteps faded, Ba gestured wordlessly towards the basement. The change in atmosphere was like walking from a warm room into the chill of a winter’s night.

The library loomed ahead, rows of books hiding truths far bloodier than any fiction they contained. Dad moved with purpose, fingers dancing over a panel hidden in the wall. I knew what was coming, but the anticipation twisted my gut all the same.

A soft click, and the bookcase slid aside with mechanical precision, revealing the staircase leading to our family’s darkest secrets. As we descended, a metallic tang hit my nostrils.

Blood. Fresh blood.

The stench of iron hit me like a fist as we entered the room—a sterile grey chamber that stood in stark defiance of any semblance of humanity. My father’s domain, where he played god and devil in equal measure. Blood spattered the walls and pooled beneath the chair at the center, a grisly testimony to the violence that preceded our arrival.

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