Page 61 of Serpent King's Bride

Chapter Thirty: Nathan

No…not her.

She couldn’t do this.

The moonlight filtered through the towering redwoods, casting long shadows that seemed to reach for us, as if wanting to pull us into the darkness. Abby’s shaking hands held the gun to her own chin, ready to kill herself instead of me.

She had flipped the script on me so fast my head was still spinning.

“Abby,” I started, my voice barely squeezing past the lump in my throat. “Please, put the gun down.” My hands hovered in the air, unsure if making any sudden moves would be my last. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

The gun shook in her grip, but it didn’t lower an inch. I could see the way her finger toyed with the trigger, and sweat beaded on my forehead despite the chill in the air. It hit me then, hitting me harder than a fist to the gut–she was my world, the axis on which everything spun, the one thing I couldn’t bear to lose.

“Listen to me, Abby,” I pleaded, my voice hoarse as if I’d been screaming for hours. “I need you. You’re everything to me.”

My words tripped over themselves, tumbling out in a messy cascade of fear and love. The gravity of the situation weighed on me, each second stretching out like an eternity as I waited for her response.

Her eyes, swollen with tears, bore into mine, the glint of the moonlight off the gun’s barrel a stark reminder of the peril we were in. “You,” she choked out, her voice laced with a cocktail of rage and despair, “you made me love you. You changed me, you…you fucking made me yours. And now…how dare you ask me to put a bullet in your head?”

“Abby, I didn’t— I’m sorry.” My words came out in a torrent, my mind racing for something, anything that might reach her. “I never meant to hurt you like this. I swear on everything that matters, Abby, please, just put the gun down.”

But there was nothing in the rulebook of life that could have prepared me for this moment—no protocol for when the woman you love holds your own gun to her head. The forest around us seemed to hold its breath along with me, waiting for her next move.

“Please,” I implored again, my voice barely above a whisper, afraid that anything louder might tip her over the edge. “I can’t lose you.”

“Then why?” Her voice cracked, the accusation hanging between us like a tangible force. “Why act like you want to get rid of me?”

I could feel the tension in every muscle, the air thick with the scent of pine and danger. My heart pounded against my ribcage, a relentless drumbeat that echoed her question.

Why?

Because I was a fool, because I’d gotten caught up in the life I was born into, because I’d failed to protect her from this madness.

There was only one thing left to try.

“Abby, I’m going to move my hands,” I murmured, my voice hoarse with emotion. “Don’t freak out, okay? I just need to reach into my pocket.”

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion etched into every line of her face, but she remained silent, the gun unwavering in her trembling hand.

Slowly, so slowly it felt like I was moving through molasses, I reached my right hand into my coat pocket. The fabric brushed against my fingers, my own breath sounding like thunder in my ears. In that moment, I realized I had pushed her to the brink of madness. The woman I loved more than life itself teetered on the edge, and I loathed myself for bringing her to this precipice.

But I loved her, and I wouldn’t—couldn’t—let her go.

My hand closed around the small, velvet box. I pulled it out, my movements careful and measured as if any sudden jolt would shatter the fragile moment into a thousand irretrievable pieces.

“Look,” I said, voice barely above a whisper, as I presented the box to her.

Her crying intensified, tears streaming down her cheeks as she brought her free hand to her mouth in shock, muffling the sobs that were trying to claw their way out of her throat. I watched, heart lurching, as the gun in her other hand quivered dangerously. It was a sickening reminder of how close we were to oblivion.

“Are you seriously doing this now?” Abby’s voice cracked through her tears, incredulous and raw. “You’re an asshole, Nathan.” The insult was a choked laugh, at odds with the seriousness of the situation. She looked at me with eyes that held a storm within them, that vibrant, emerald green breaking me and remaking me. “Don’t you dare ask me this if you don’t mean it.”

“Abby,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt, “there’s nothing I’ve ever meant more in my life.”

She said nothing; just sobbed again, her shoulders shuddering. I took a deep breath, steadying myself against the torrent of emotions that threatened to capsize me. The box felt heavy in my hand, laden with more than just the promise of a ring.

It was the weight of my future, our future, hanging precariously between us.

“I love you,” I declared, the words carving themselves into the night air, irrevocable and true. “I love you and it scares the hell out of me…but after this moment, I’m yours completely.”

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