Page 16 of Serpent King's Prisoner

“He sounds very hot,” she said, flipping her straightened hair over her shoulder. “Girl, if you don’t go for it, I might.”

“Well, you don’t even know the guy…”

“I know you have standards,” she replied, winking at me. “I’ve seen you swiping on guys.”

“Erika, slow down,” I said. “You’re so thirsty.”

“I just haven’t been laid for ages,” she said. “Seems like a shared affliction.”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest as I leaned against the doorframe. I desperately wanted to change the topic. “You look great. What are you getting ready for?”

“Thank you!” Erika said, applying a final swipe of mascara, “I’ve got the golden ticket to Fusion. You know, that swanky place on Ninth? I’ve been buttering up the bouncer for weeks. Finally got him to agree to let me skip the line.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out.” My voice was even, but inside, my pulse quickened. Fusion wasn’t just any club—it was a velvet-rope fortress where the city’s dark underbelly liked to play. This was a great place for me to get info on the Triads.

“Absolutely. I’m in need of some serious fun after slinging drinks all day, and who knows...” She shot me a sideways glance through the mirror, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. “I might not come home alone if things go my way.”

“Good luck with that,” I said, keeping my tone light while my mind raced. If Erika could get into Fusion, so could I—and with Triad members frequenting the place, it was the perfect opportunity to glean information. Or at least, that’s what I told myself as I stifled the twinge of concern for her safety.

“Thanks, roomie.” Erika grinned, popping her lips with gloss. “You should come out sometime, live a little.”

“Maybe one day,” I replied with a shrug, though I knew that ‘living a little’ wasn’t in the cards for an FBI agent deep undercover. But tonight...tonight might just be that one day.

I watched her for a moment, the way she flitted about the room with an energy that was both enviable and exhausting. I rarely let myself get drawn into these moments of normalcy, the kind where you could forget about the lurking dangers and the lies that coated my every word like thick honey.

“Hey, Erika,” I said, my voice casual as I fiddled with a strand of curly hair. “You know what? Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer. Mind if I tag along tonight?”

She spun around, her eyes wide with surprise, mascara wand suspended mid-air. “Really?” She blinked at me. “I mean, yeah, of course! But aren’t you more the quiet night in type? You always seem to prefer your sketches and books over strobe lights and bass drops.”

Actually, those were FBI work notes, but she didn’t need to know that. “Yeah, guilty as charged,” I said.

“But you want to go out tonight?” she asked. “You’re not joking?”

“I’m not. Maybe it’s time I shook things up a bit,” I replied, trying not to betray the urgency beneath my cool exterior. The truth was, I needed to be where the whispers slithered through the shadows, even if it meant stepping outside my comfort zone.

“Alright then, bad girl Abby coming out to play!” Erika laughed, the sound rich with delight. “This is going to be epic. We’ll make it a night to remember.”

“Let’s hope so,” I murmured, feeling the weight of my hidden agenda settle heavy on my shoulders. But as I met her gaze in the mirror, all I offered was a smile—one that didn’t quite reach my eyes but served its purpose.

“Great! Do you need me to lend you a dress?” Erika turned back to her reflection, humming under her breath as she resumed her makeup routine.

“No, I’m fine,” I said. “I think I have something to wear.”

“Perfect,” she said.

My thoughts were already racing ahead of the evening’s potential risks and rewards. Tonight, Fusion wouldn’t just be a dance floor—it would be a battlefield. And I was walking straight into enemy territory, armed with nothing but a fake ID and a prayer that I could dance this delicate line without missing a step.

And if I didn’t…then Agent Matthews might be right.

And we might all end up paying with our lives.

Chapter Nine: Nathan

Ishould’ve been used to doing business in these nightclubs, but…things had a way of going wrong in places like this.

The neon blaze of Fusion’s sign cut through the evening haze as I stepped out of the black sedan. My leather shoes met the damp pavement with a decisive tap, the sound swallowed by the thrumming bass that bled from the club walls.

I didn’t bother to look back at my driver; he knew the drill. Stay close enough for a getaway ride if needed…but to let me enjoy my evening if I didn’t call.

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