Page 16 of Serpent King's Revenge

"Hey!" My voice was stronger than I felt. "Guard!"

I stumbled to the door, gripping the bars in the small window and peering out. Down the hall, a guard glanced up from a paper he was reading, bored eyes meeting mine. He didn't move, didn't speak. Just went back to his paper like I was no more than a fly buzzing at the window.

"Come on, man," I said, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. "What's the deal here?"

Silence.

Frustrated, I backed away from the door and threw myself on the bed, the hard mattress doing nothing to cushion the force. The holding cell had been a palace compared to this. With the Cranes, there was at least something to do in protecting myself, a distraction from the mess my life had become.

But here, in this solitary box, my mind was left to run wild.

And my mind was a dangerous place.

It all hit me like a sucker punch. Ma's involvement with the arson cases, her face when she realized what was coming next. Ba—no, the Serpent—his hand steady as he pulled the trigger.

And Abby…alone, probably worried sick. Her face was the hardest to shake. We were supposed to be untouchable, but here I was, touching nothing but cold steel and rough fabric.

Crazy wasn't a place I visited; it was where I lived now. My thoughts swirled like a whirlpool, pulling me under. Ma's schemes, the people hurt, the lives scorched by her ambition. I realized I was angry with her…even as I missed her like hell. She’d done nothing but try to protect us.

Protect us from him.

The Serpent…the sadistic madman who taught me how to be a killer, standing over her body like he was judge, jury, and executioner.

"Damn it," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "How did it come to this?"

The walls of the cell seemed to inch closer, my breaths growing shallow. I closed my eyes, trying to shut it all out, but the darkness behind my lids was a canvas for my memories. Every mistake, every wrong turn, every betrayal—they played in technicolor brutality, and I was the captive audience.

I needed to move, to shake off the creeping dread that was wrapping around my chest like a vice. I stood up and tried pacing the length of the tiny cell, but it was no use. Three steps one way, a turn, and three steps back—it was a path to madness.

"Keep it together, Nathan," I whispered, trying to ground myself with the sound of my own voice.

But there wasn't enough room in this box to even follow my own advice. My skin prickled with the need to do something, anything other than sit here with my ghosts.

I tried to meditate, to find some inner peace amid the chaos of my mind. But peace was a language I never learned fluently. Every time I closed my eyes, Ma's lifeless form haunted me, and Ba's smile—a twisted grin that knew no remorse—tormented me.

"Focus, damn it," I hissed through clenched teeth, trying to will away the images. But every blink brought them back, sharper, more vivid.

"Stop thinking about it," I ordered myself.

Still, it was like telling my heart not to beat.

The walls pressed closer, the air grew thicker, and I fought for every breath as if the room itself was closing in on me. I couldn't stay still, yet there was nowhere to go. This cell was my cage, my purgatory, where I paid for sins—mine and those of my family.

I wondered if this was how Abby had felt when I kidnapped her and handcuffed her to my bed.

A blink, and my world went black. Startled awake, I sat up. The darkness was thick, suffocating.

In the corner, a shape hunched in the shadows.

Someone was there, watching me.

My heart hammered against my ribs, my breaths short and sharp.

"Who's there?" My voice came out as a croak, barely louder than the silence around me.

No answer—only the stillness of my own cell staring back. I rubbed at my eyes, hard enough to see stars. When my vision cleared, the corner was empty. Just the walls and the dark. It had to be a trick of my mind, cooked up from too much fear and too little food. I didn’t think they were allowed to withhold food when I was in here…but the rules didn’t seem to apply for me.

"Get a grip, Nathan," I muttered, but my words echoed off the walls mockingly.

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