Page 111 of Serpent King's Revenge

He came at me with a lunge, his knife aiming straight for my chest like he wanted to pin me to the grimy floor. But I wasn't having any of that.

I shifted just a hair to the left, letting his blade slide by…then I hurled the chained arm at his head. I hit him right in the skull with a crack—then my knife found its home in his side, quick and sure. He grunted—a sound that got swallowed up by the clanging and cursing that filled the room.

"Ah!" The sound ripped from his throat as he staggered back, his hand pressing against the wet wound. His face twisted in pain, but his eyes…they were losing that fight.

I kicked out, sending him crashing into the cold concrete wall. He slid down without another word, done.

I stood there for a second, panting hard, feeling the sting of cuts and the heat of my own blood trickling down in places. The chain on my arm felt like it weighed a ton now, but it had done its job. Some of the men still twitched, crawled, cried.

"Kid," Knuckles rasped. He was a mess, but his eyes were clear. "Forget them. Kenny's your mark."

My chest burned from the effort, my heart hammering against my ribs, but I nodded. Knuckles was right. I had to move, had to finish this.

So, I sucked in that single, heavy breath and turned towards the stairs—toward the trail of blood left by my father.

Chapter Fifty-One: Abby

Ihad to get to Nathan.

I bolted down the stairs, gun ready in one hand, knife gripped tight in the other. My eyes darted to the front door—shut tight. The room was dead quiet, no sign of trouble…

…until the shuffle of footsteps echoed from the library.

I raised my gun and stood stock still, aiming toward the entry to the library, my mind racing with every bad outcome. I could picture Nathan dead…Kenny’s men pouring out of the basement to kill me next.

No.

Nathan had to be alive.

Then I saw the last person I wanted to see: Kenny, clutching his leg, a dark stain spreading across his pants. He was unarmed, face screwed up in agony. For a second, he didn't see me, just grimaced and grunted, trying to stay upright as he shuffled toward the door.

But when his eyes finally met mine, something flickered in them—a mix of shock and that twisted joy he got from pain.

"Abigail," he rasped, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was about to laugh or cry—or maybe both. "Didn't think I'd be seeing you here."

I stared at Kenny, his eyes meeting mine for a split second that felt like forever. "Sit down," I said, jerking my head toward the dining table with the gun aimed at his chest.

The smile that crept onto his face was all wrong, like he found something funny in the barrel of my gun. Creepy didn't even begin to cover it. He limped over to the table and sank into his usual spot, like he was presiding over a feast of rotten food. I kept the gun on him, my heart pounding so loud it drowned out the sound of my own breathing.

"Abby, Abby," he murmured, blood dribbling from his mouth as he tried to make himself comfortable. He swept it away, coughed. “I like the look of you with a gun in your hand—”

"Shut up, Kenny," I snapped, not willing to let him get into my head. Not now. Not when I feared the worst—feared that Nathan was lying face down in the kill room, lifeless and cold.

I heard it then—a shuffle, a soft thud from the direction of the library. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I fought to keep my hand steady on the gun aimed at Kenny.

"Expecting someone?" Kenny's voice cut through the tense silence, but I ignored him.

"Shut it," I hissed without taking my eyes off the bottom of the stairs. Would he be this confident if Nathan was alive? Or was he…

The sounds grew louder, footsteps uneven and dragging. It could be anyone; this night had been one surprise hit after another.

And then he was there.

Nathan. His shirt stuck to his body, dark with blood, his hair matted, face smeared with streaks of red. And he a chain around his arm for some reason.

But he was alive.

Alive.

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