Page 90 of Serpent King's Prisoner

“Rarely,” I admitted, feeling the weight of the dragon inked onto my skin beneath my shirt—a constant reminder of the path I had been forced down. “I went into business with my family after graduation. It’s…a different kind of challenge.”

“Family business can be complicated,” Owen nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. He flashed a look at Abby that I didn’t quite understand, and I watched as she took a big gulp of her water.

He had no idea just how complicated my family was.

It seemed he was satisfied, though, because after that the conversation settled into little life updates—about work, life, Owen’s cat. An hour later, the dinner plates had been cleared, and the check settled with a polite fight over who would pay—Owen insisting, me deferring out of respect. The conversation had taken on a lighter tone as we ventured into anecdotes about Abby’s childhood adventures, moments when her tenacity had first shown through. Her laughter was easy, and it filled the space between us with a warmth that was hard to fake.

I wanted to know everything about her.

“Thanks for dinner, Dad,” Abby said, her voice softening as we walked out of the restaurant. She turned once we were out the door and wrapped her arms around her father in a tight embrace. “It was really great to catch up.”

“Anytime, Sprout,” Owen replied, his hand gently patting her back. He looked at her with a mixture of pride and something else—worry, maybe, or just the natural concern of a father for his daughter.

Then he fixed his eyes on me over her shoulder, and I read the meaning quite clearly.

If you hurt her, I’ll fucking kill you.

I nodded once, making sure he understood that I would protect her, no matter what.

As they parted, Abby lingered beside him, her green eyes searching his face. “How long are you planning on staying in town?”

“Thinking I might stick around for a while,” Owen said, his gaze drifting past her to the darkened street outside. “There’s some unfinished business I need to take care of—and you gave me quite the scare, kiddo. Can we do lunch soon, just the two of us? Catch up properly?”

“Of course, Dad.” Abby’s smile was genuine, a light in her eyes that I hadn’t seen before.

Then she turned to me, giving me a look that drilled straight through my composure. It was pointed, telling me without words that this was something I had to let her do.

I didn’t like that.

Annoyance twisted in my gut. She’d played her part flawlessly tonight, but that look reminded me that by letting her back into public, I’d given her agency. It was that defiance, that spirit, which drew me to her and infuriated me at the same time. ‘

Tonight, she’d been the perfect girlfriend in front of her father, but later…I’d remind her who was really in control.

“Sounds good,” I said, keeping my voice even, masking the irritation that bubbled beneath the surface. “I’ll give you two some space.”

“Thanks, Nathan,” she replied, her green eyes flicking back to me with a sharpness that said she knew exactly what she was doing to me. It was like she had peered into my soul and found every weak spot with unnerving accuracy. “But we should be going—I told Erika that I’d be by the apartment soon.”

“Drive safe, you two,” Owen said, pulling Abby into one last hug before letting her go.

“Will do,” I assured him, ushering Abby toward my car parked under the streetlight’s glow. The evening air was brisk, carrying the city’s pulse through the Tenderloin, but the tension between us now was like an entirely different entity—alive and demanding to be acknowledged.

As we slid into the car, the leather seats cool against our skin, silence settled heavily around us. I started the engine, the low rumble a stark background to the quiet that stretched out, taut as a wire.

Abby buckled herself in, her movements deliberate, her freckles standing out against her fair skin in the dim light of the dashboard. I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind those eyes, what game she thought she was playing.

“Mind swinging by my place so I can pick up some things?” she asked. “I just want to put Erika at ease while we’re at it.”

I didn’t want to do that at all—didn’t want to stop by her place—but she had told her father we were going to her old apartment, and now he would have questions if I raced her home.

“Give me the address,” I muttered.

She did, and I punched in the address to get navigation started. We steered toward her apartment–her old apartment, since she lived with me now.

But that didn’t mean I was lying down.

After this, we would go back home, and I would lock her in again. Because she had to remember one thing: I wanted to keep her alive, but I didn’t care about keeping her happy.

At least that’s what I told myself as we drove away from the Tenderloin and she wiped the tears off her face.

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