Page 101 of Serpent King's Revenge

"True."

Then my phone buzzed. The laughter died as I pulled it out and saw Dad's name flash across the screen. Two messages. The first was simple: "Love you, Sprout." My throat tightened at the nickname that took me back to pigtail days and scraped knees.

The second text yanked me back to the present, talking about arsonist attacks lighting up San Francisco. My heart sped up. It was happening, our plan unfurling across the city in flames and smoke.

"Trouble?" Nathan asked, watching my face.

I stared at the glow of my phone screen, at the words that had appeared from Dad. His next message cut straight to the point: "You got anything to do with this?"

My fingers hovered, then moved with certainty, tapping out a reply. "We had to. We're hitting Kenny's spots, not civilians." I hit send, feeling the weight of each word.

"Everything okay?" Nathan asked, eyes locked on mine.

"Fine," I replied, tucking the phone away. I could almost hear Dad's voice in my head, heavy with that look he gets, the one that says he's disappointed but knows arguing is like trying to stop a storm with an umbrella.

Deep down, I knew he would think it wasn't much better, targeting the Serpents' dirty money instead of random folks. But what choice did we have? The law was a sieve, letting guys like Kenny slip through while good people got caught in the crossfire.

Nathan watched me, waiting for me to say more. But there was nothing else to say. I'd made my decision the moment I decided the law couldn't protect Nathan.

So why would it protect our future kid?

We were doing what we needed to do. And right now, that was all that mattered.

I glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror, and for a moment, I couldn't recognize the cold-eyed woman staring back. I felt no guilt as I thought about the fires burning through Kenny's empire, yet a pang of something else twisted in my gut—disappointment from my dad. He always had this way of making me want to be better, but here I was, far from the daughter he once knew.

I was what this life made me, and remorse wasn't part of the package anymore.

"Looks like we're on track," I said, breaking the silence. "Fires are lighting up all over town. Kenny's gonna be spread thin trying to put them out."

Nathan nodded, his eyes not leaving the road. "Good. By the time we roll up on him, he won't know what hit him." He glanced at the clock on the dashboard: ten o’clock, hours to go before he put a bullet in Knuckles Chen. "We've got time."

"Perfect," I muttered, feeling that familiar rush. We were close, so damn close to ending this.

We parked the car a block away from the Zhou house, the engine going silent as we coasted to a stop and turned off the headlights. I peered through the tinted windows, my eyes fixed on the line of black cars starting to roll out from his driveway.

"Look," I whispered, pointing. Nathan leaned over to see, his hand resting on the gear stick.

"Right on time." His voice was calm, but I could tell he was relieved.

"His people are leaving. It's working," I said, watching another car join the procession, tail lights blending into the night.

"Ba's not stupid," Nathan said, his voice low. "He'll have men inside. Guys we don't see."

I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to face him. "Sure, but he doesn't know about us. Not really. He thinks he's seen all our moves."

"Stopgaps won't stop us," Nathan added, pulling out his own knife and checking the blade.

"Right." I cracked my knuckles, feeling the weight of the gun against my thigh. "Let him have his guards. We've got our own tricks, and Kenny?" I leaned in close to Nathan, a smirk playing on my lips. "He's clueless about what's coming for him."

Nathan grinned back at me, that wild spark in his eyes.

"Then let's not keep him waiting any longer."

Chapter Forty-Six: Nathan

My parents’ house felt more like a tomb than a home.

We parked outside their suburban home, engine dying with a last shudder and leaving a jarring silence. The place looked just as I remembered…but wrong. Whereas my mother had kept this house brimming with life, the windows stared out like dead eyes, the door a silent mouth that had swallowed whole years of my life.

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