Page 30 of Serpent King's Revenge

Passing time felt like a joke, but staying sharp wasn't. My fingers worked over the makeshift blade, the shiv I'd crafted not too unlike the one Abby once made. The memory stung: my firecracker fiancée, whittling down plastic cutlery for her shot at freedom. I should've been mad thinking about it, but instead, a chuckle escaped me.

There I was, getting soft on memories that should've burned.

"Damn," I muttered under my breath, the edge of the shiv catching the light as I turned it over, testing its bite. "Gotta keep it together, Nathan." The boredom was a battle, but losing focus could mean missing the signs, the footsteps that might spell my end. But I couldn't help it; even locked up, part of me was still tangled up with Abby.

The thud of boots on concrete yanked me back to the now and I stashed the shiv under my cot fast. I rolled off the cot and hit the floor, hands behind my head before they even barked the command—any excuse for them not to find the shiv. Cuffs snapped around my wrists, cold and familiar. Shackles bound my ankles, just enough give to shuffle along as they escorted me out.

"Morning stroll to the interrogation room," a guard said, the words dripping with a sarcasm I felt in my bones.

This couldn’t be good. I didn’t know what they wanted…but I knew that much.

We moved through the sterile halls, echoes bouncing off walls that could tell more stories than most snitches. The room was waiting, the same table, the same chairs, the same stale air.

They cuffed me to the table as usual. I didn't resist. It was part of the dance by now, the steps memorized to monotony.

"See you in a few," one guard grunted.

Alone, with just the hum of fluorescent lights for company, I settled into the chair. Minutes dragged into what could've been hours. They wanted to sweat me out, break the silence with my own voice, but I wasn't biting. I knew their game, had seen it played on guys less sturdy than me. But I'd given them what I could without signing my own death warrant or throwing my siblings, Knuckles, and Abby into the fire.

"Come on, Hayes," I murmured, the name leaving a bitter taste. "What's your angle today?"

But she didn't show. Just me, the room, and time stretching out. My mind worked over every angle, every piece of the puzzle. What did they still want?

What play was I missing?

A thought crept in, uninvited but persistent. Abby. Had they caught her? I shook my head, trying to banish the worry. She was too smart for them, a ghost in the wind. But then there was Owen. He knew things—things I hadn't told Hayes. If he wanted me gone, if he wanted to get Abby away from me for good, he could do it.

I pushed the thoughts away, focusing instead on the cold feel of the metal cuffs, the way they dug into my wrists—a sensation that was almost comforting in its familiarity. It was something real, something present.

The door creaked open, breaking the silence, and Diane Hayes walked in. I scowled, and she laughed, the sound sharp and mocking.

"Still here, Nathan?" she asked. "You're looking a bit rough around the edges."

"Lawyer," I spat out, not bothering to hide my disdain. She enjoyed this—me locked up, at her mercy. The power trip was written all over her smug face.

She pulled out the chair across from me, the legs scraping against the floor, and sat down with a deliberate slowness. As she crossed one leg over the other, I couldn't help but think that there was more to her than just the badge and the tough talk. My father—the Serpent—had his fingers in so many pies, it wouldn't surprise me if Hayes was on his payroll, playing both sides.

"Getting sick of these four walls yet?" she asked, her eyes scanning mine, searching for something.

All I did was stare at her, even though I wanted to scream. Her presence was grating. Every time she showed up, it reminded me how little control I had over anything anymore.

And today…something was off about all this.

I glanced up, my gaze catching the dead eye of the camera in the corner. It wasn't blinking its usual red. That little light that meant we had an audience was off. My heartbeat kicked up a notch, and I felt cold sweat on the back of my neck.

“Ah,” she said. “Notice something different?”

I glared at her. "What's your game, Hayes?"

"Game?" She feigned innocence, but her eyes held a flicker of something else—amusement, maybe even excitement. "No games, Nathan. Just options."

"Bullshit,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes.

"No, I’m being serious, you’ve got options—two of them," she said, leaning forward slightly. "You can either give us everything—names, places, details on the arsonists—or you get transferred to a facility across the state."

"Is that right?" I shot back, my voice tight. "Last time I checked, I hadn't been sentenced to anything yet. Haven't even seen a lawyer, in case you forgot."

"Lawyers." Hayes waved her hand dismissively. "You think they have power here? This is my table, Nathan. And you're just sitting at it hoping for scraps."

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