Page 100 of Serpent King's Revenge

"Tomorrow will worry about itself. Tonight, you're my wife," I replied, my voice low and steady.

We took a moment, holding onto each other, trying to carve this feeling deep into our memories. This wasn't just a pause in the chaos; it was something real, something ours.

And whatever came next, we had each other.

The future was out there, waiting on the other side of tonight.

Chapter Forty-Five: Abby

The teahouse was clearing out, the last whispers of strategy and cigar smoke hanging in the air. The guys, each with a part to play, grabbed their jackets, hats pulled low over shadowed eyes. Doors creaked as one by one they slipped out into the chill of the San Francisco night, heading to the Serpents' cash washes and bars where dirty money got clean.

"Time to move," Nathan said, his voice low and steady.

He didn't wait for an answer. I knew the drill.

We stepped outside, the cool air nipping at my cheeks. The city was quiet, like it was holding its breath, waiting for something big to happen. I followed Nathan to his car, a black sedan that looked like every other car on the street but had guts under the hood that could outrun a cheetah. Nathan opened the door for me, and I slid into the passenger seat, the leather cool against my skin.

"Seatbelt," he reminded me, and I clicked it into place. Nathan got behind the wheel. He stuck the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life, a deep, throaty sound that promised speed.

"Let's go make some noise," I said, a half-grin pulling at my lips.

"Like we'd do anything else," Nathan shot back, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Our hands found each other, fingers interlocking with a grip that said more than words. We looked at each other, really looked. No words needed. We both knew what was on the line tonight.

"Abby…" Nathan breathed out.

"I love you," I said, cutting right to the heart of it. "Always."

"Love you too."

His lips met mine, a kiss full of all the things we might not get to say later. It was brief, fierce, and it spoke of promises and goodbyes we hoped we wouldn't happen.

We hadn’t said it, but we both knew.

We pulled back just enough to see each other again. This could be it, our last chance before the endgame. But we were in it together, till death do us part.

And damn if I'd let it be ours without one hell of a fight.

The engine hummed beneath us as Nathan slid the gear into drive. The world outside blurred into a landscape of intention, every streetlight a passing flare in the night.

"Ready?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the road.

My hand dropped to my side, fingers brushing against cold metal. The pistol strapped to my thigh was a familiar weight, its presence a silent partner in what was about to unfold. I ran a check over my weapons, a ritual as familiar as breathing. Knife tucked inside my boot, another hidden under the waistband of my jeans, and one more—the sharpest—strapped to my forearm. All of them were close, within reach, ready to dance if the music called for it.

"Everything good?" Nathan asked.

"Locked and loaded," I replied, patting the pistol. "Your turn. Run me through what you've got."

"Just the one pistol.” He tapped his waist. “We’ll probably get patted down.”

"Knives?"

"Three. One in my boot, one behind the belt, and another up my sleeve." His smile was easy, but his eyes were all business.

I shook my head, half-amused, half-awed at our reality. "We're like a walking armory. This is nuts."

"Hey," he said with a shrug, "beats couples yoga."

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