Page 119 of Serpent King's Revenge

"Really? Because I could've sworn this was the hideout of the world's sneakiest munchkin," I said, raising an eyebrow. Nathan just gave me that look, the one that said he was innocent. Or at least pretending to be. I crossed my arms and watched Nathan pretend to be absorbed in his work.

But then that giggle—soft and mischievous—bubbled up from under his desk.

"Did you hear that?" Nathan asked without looking up, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Think I might have," I responded dryly, glancing down at the large oak desk. "Sounds like someone's not very good at hide and seek."

Under the desk, Nathan's hand disappeared—and a second later, he hauled out a wriggling bundle of giggles. Evan emerged, his face lit up in a victorious grin as if he'd won some grand prize for his stealth. He had his dad’s big brown eyes, and they glittered with just a touch of villainy.

"Gotcha!" Nathan declared, his voice booming with mock sternness, but his eyes crinkled at the corners.

Evan squealed, all flailing limbs and pure joy as Nathan scooped him into his arms. They were both laughing now, their mirth echoing off the high ceilings of the office like some kind of music you couldn't buy. As Nathan stood and turned toward me, Evan perched on his hip like a little king surveying his land, I couldn’t help but join in the laughter.

"Ma, Ba found me!" Evan announced, as if it was the greatest news ever told.

"Sure did, champ," Nathan said, and then leaned over to plant a quick kiss on my cheek. His lips were warm, a brief touch that still sent a ripple of something sweet through me.

I looked at Nathan, this man who had somehow untangled himself from a past darker than a moonless night and became someone Evan could look up to without question. The transformation wasn't lost on me. He was a dad first, Triad leader second—maybe even third or fourth by then.

He was living proof that people weren't just the sum of their histories.

"Best dad ever," I whispered, more to myself than to them, watching the easy way he held Evan, the natural fit of our son in his life-worn hands. Nathan gave me a lopsided smile, the sort that knew exactly what I was thinking without words needing to pass between us.

"Only because I got you two," he said.

Yeah…unlikely.

At this point, I was a little darker than him.

We made our way down the hall to the kitchen, Nathan putting Evan down carefully so he could check on tonight’s meal. The aroma hit me first, a mix of garlic and ginger that took me straight back to Sunday dinners. He was standing over the stove, wooden spoon in hand, stirring a simmering pot that smelled like love and tradition.

"Smells amazing," I said, leaving Evan to toddle over to his box of trucks by the fridge.

"Learned from the best," Nathan replied without turning, focused on his mother's recipe as if it were a sacred text.

The table was already set for ten. Every Sunday, without fail, we'd come together—a ragtag family bound not just by blood but by everything we'd been through. Tonight, it would be Justin and Derek with their little one; Lily with some new boyfriend; Knuckles, who was now running things full-time in the city; and Dad, who'd warmed up to Nathan more than I'd ever imagined he would.

It was an odd thing, having a bunch of gangsters and a cop at our table every week.

But somehow, we made it work.

"Everyone's coming over, huh?" Nathan asked, checking the rice. His casual tone couldn't hide the anticipation he felt for these dinners. It was more than food; it was our statement to the world that we'd survived, thrived even, despite the odds.

"Wouldn't miss it," I confirmed, leaning against the counter. "Dad even said he's bringing dessert this time."

Nathan chuckled. "Hope it's not his fruitcake again."

"Hey, he tries."

"Try telling that to the garbage disposal." Nathan winked at me before tasting the sauce again.

"Be nice. It's the thought that counts." I watched Nathan stir something in a big pot, steam fogging up the window above the stove. "Need a hand?"

He glanced over his shoulder, a half-smile playing on his lips. "Got it covered, but stick around."

"Wouldn't dream of leaving you to fend for yourself."

"Good," Nathan said. "Because your company makes this taste better."

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