Page 124 of Serpent King's Prisoner

He snorted, a sound that was like nails on the chalkboard of my patience. "I find that hard to believe. You're Nathan Zhou, right? I've done my homework on you. You're up to something."

My muscles tensed, a coil ready to spring. The insolence of him—standing in my home, suggesting I was plotting some scheme—

Footsteps echoed from above, a soft rhythm against the hardwood. Both Tyler and I turned as one towards the stairs.

Abby descended, a vision, her skin glowing against the dark silk of her robe. The robe wasn’t closed, revealing her lace panties and the curve of her breasts. I didn’t want him seeing her like this, and I opened my mouth to stop her when she casually interrupted—clearly having no idea he was here.

"Are you making breakfast?" she was asking.

Then she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Tyler?" It came out as a whisper, her voice a mix of disbelief and fear.

Her eyes went wide, and in that moment, everything stilled.

"Tyler," she said again, her voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough to break the silence that had settled like a shroud in the room. “What are you doing here? I didn’t…”

He interrupted her, and his words had me raging.

“Holy shit…you slept with him, you stupid bitch–”

I couldn’t help it.

I’d been trained for worse.

In a flash, my vision tinted red. A rage I'd mastered over years of discipline and control roared to life, fueled by the disrespect in Tyler's tone, the threat in his presence.

A knife was in my hand in a heartbeat, pulled from the knife block on the counter, then shoved to the hilt into Tyler Matthews’ back. I didn't hear the sound of the blade sinking into flesh, but I felt it—a resistance that gave way too easily, a sensation I knew too well.

He choked on his words.

Slumped forward.

Red coated my hand, pouring onto the floor as I twisted the knife.

My ears rang, heart pounding so loud I couldn’t hear anything else…until Abby screamed, a raw, panicked sound that I'd never heard from her before. But it was too late; I was on him, pinning him to the ground, and the knife plunged into his chest again. Once, twice, three times—the blade moved in a grim rhythm, driven by the force of my wrath and the need to protect what was mine. He was already dead, but no one would talk to my woman that way.

"Stop! Nathan!" Her hands grasped my shoulders, yanking me back. "Please!"

I barely registered her touch. The world had narrowed down to Tyler's blank stare, the slick warmth of his blood, and the need to eliminate the threat he posed. But Abby's pleas finally pierced through, and her fingers found my wrist, prying the knife from my unresisting grip.

"Enough!" she cried, tugging me back with all her might.

I stumbled off him, panting, the red mist receding as I looked down at the heap of a man I'd just made. Tyler lay there, motionless, eyes staring into nothing. His blazer twisted askew, revealing something I hadn't expected—a glint of metal that caught the light.

An FBI badge.

Abby's hands fell away from me, her breath coming in short gasps. Her eyes were wide, fixed on the badge, then flickering to meet mine, filled with questions and fear.

"Abby, what the fuck is going on?" The words came out ragged, torn from a throat tight with confusion and betrayal.

She shook her head, eyes still locked on Tyler's body. "I can't believe you did that, Nathan," she whispered, voice trembling.

"Did what? Protect you?" My chest heaved, my heart racing. "He came here for you, Abby. Why didn't you tell me he was FBI?"

Her gaze flickered back to mine, searching, desperate. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Only a faint shudder ran through her, betraying more than her silence ever could.

"Talk to me, damn it!" I stepped closer, my own blood boiling beneath my skin. Every moment of peace we'd shared this morning now felt like a cruel joke. The roses on the table, the breakfast half-prepared—all a lie.

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