Page 21 of Serpent King's Revenge

“Bless him, neither do I,” Dad grunted. “Well, if that’s all, I can–”

“That’s not all,” I said…and I felt tears prick at my eyes. Shit. Another damn pregnancy symptom. “I also need you to tell him that I’m…that I’m pregnant.”

I tried to keep my composure in the shocked silence that followed, my dad’s breath hitching in surprise. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. “Oh, Sprout…that explains a hell of a lot.”

I choked, unable to hold back the tears anymore–and I was sure my dad heard me sobbing because he immediately started soothing me.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll go and talk to him. You just…you stay put and stay safe, okay? Jesus…I love you, Abby. And I need you to stay safe, because I intend on spoiling my grandchild just like I spoiled you.”

I laughed, swiping desperately at my tears only for more to fall. “I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too,” he said again. “Now…I’ve got to get started on this. I’ll keep you updated, okay?”

“Sounds good,” I say. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

We hung up and I sat in the silence, trying to stop crying. A moment later, I heard footsteps at the door and looked over to see Lily lingering at the threshold, her brow furrowed. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

I just stared at her–just like I had the day before.

“Right,” she said. “Still a stupid question.”

I laughed through the tears, shaking my head. “I feel like this is our new normal…but do you want to have a good cry with me?”

She laughed, and sniffled slightly–and then she was coming over and slinging her arm around my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug.

“Yeah,” she said. “I think we both need that.”

Chapter Nine: Nathan

Iwas in solitary…but I wasn’t alone.

My ghosts were with me.

Time lost meaning in this hole, the endless stretch of solitary that could've been days or years. My stomach was a tight knot from hunger, but it was the craving to move, to run, to not feel caged that gnawed at me most. I used to have discipline, hard as steel, but now? Now I felt like putty, all because Abby's image wouldn’t leave my mind. Her face was the clearest thing in this fog, and it tore at me.

I spent most of my time slumped on the cot, couldn't stand the sight of the four walls any longer. I was bored, too…but I couldn’t sleep—because it was watching.

The dark, shadowy figure crouched in the corner, always there, just out of clear sight. Ma, I was starting to think. She wasn't really there, of course—just a trick of the mind. But sometimes, the stories Ba would tell crept back, about gui po, spirits with scores to settle.

I half-believed it. Was she here to haunt me?

The silence mocked me, pressing down until I could hardly breathe. The figure didn't move, didn't make a sound, just stayed crouched, watching. I shivered despite the still, stale air.

I wasn't the kind to pray or believe much in anything beyond what I could see and touch. But right then, a strange thought hit me—she needed ceremony to move on. Proper rites, something to honor her, not the cold nothing I was sure she got. It felt like an itch under my skin, this need to do something for her, but what could I do locked up in this hole?

A sudden sharp ringing blasted through my ears, so intense it felt like a drill into my skull. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it out, but it only grew louder. My head pounded with each heartbeat, each pulse ramping up the volume until the whole world was just that noise.

"Stop," I groaned through clenched teeth, pressing my palms hard against my ears.

But when I opened my eyes again, the figure had changed. It was worse now. Its mouth was wide open, wider than any mouth should be, and the ringing…it morphed into a wail, a sound no living person could make. It cut right through me, slicing past my defenses and leaving me raw, exposed—

Footsteps outside my cell snapped me back to the grim reality of prison walls, and with it, the crouched specter in the corner dissipated like smoke. My gaze jerked to the door where a sliver of light from the small window cut across the room. There was a guard there, his face hidden behind the visor of his riot helmet, looking every bit as impersonal as death itself.

"Face down on the floor, hands behind your back," he ordered, voice muffled but clear.

I obeyed without hesitation, not because I was eager to follow orders, but because I couldn't summon the will to defy him. My body felt heavy, like I was dragging chains with every movement. As I lay there, face pressed against concrete, arms pulled awkwardly behind me, a thought crept into my mind unbidden.

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