Page 7 of Serpent King's Revenge

Lily collapsed on the floor and I went to her without thinking, kneeling beside her. To my relief, she didn’t push me away; instead, she flung her arms around my neck and clung to me, sobbing into my shoulder.

“We’ll explain everything,” I whispered as Justin joined us on the floor. “I’m sorry, Lily…I’m sorry.”

Chapter Three: Nathan

The clang of metal echoed as the holding cell door swung open, yanking me from my thoughts. A guard stood there, his face nothing more than shadows in the dim hallway. "Zhou, up and at 'em," he grunted.

Twelve hours. Twelve long hours in a hard plastic chair, handcuffed to a table as I was beaten and interrogated. But I hadn't cracked—not a word about the family business to the cops.

Not about Abby, not about Justin, not about Knuckles…and not about the decomposing body in my composter.

"Let's go," the guard snapped, cuffing my wrists. He led me down the sterile corridor, the click of my shoes against the hard floor the only sound breaking the silence.

At processing, they took my personal stuff and handed over inmate clothes—drab brown scrubs that smelled like bleach and despair. I changed quickly, avoiding eye contact with the officer on duty. His gaze burned into my back anyway.

"Done?" Diane Hayes’ voice cut through the room, all business. She’d tried to grill me between beatings, but I wouldn’t give Abby up. No luck then, no luck now.

"Yeah," I said, keeping it short.

"Phone call. Make it count." Her eyes followed me to the phone mounted on the wall. She leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching me like a hawk.

I picked up the receiver, the cold plastic familiar in my hand. My mind raced—who could I trust? Who could help me out of this mess without drawing a target on their own back?

"Clock's ticking, Zhou," Diane said, tapping her watch with a smirk.

Abby's face flashed in my minds. I wanted to hear her voice, to lean on her strength, but I couldn’t drag her into this. She was safe as long as she stayed out of it. I put that impulse to bed.

Then there was Ba. The Serpent. The man who’d given me life and taken Ma’s. My finger hovered over the numbers that would connect me to him, but my gut twisted.

I couldn't do it. Not even now, not even with a cell waiting for me.

I thought about calling Ba’s attorney, the slick guy who could make charges disappear like smoke. But something told me he wouldn’t touch this case with a ten-foot pole—not without Ba's say-so, and that was something I wasn’t going to get.

"Need a pen?" Diane mocked, her smirk widening. "Maybe you forgot your lawyer's number."

I glared at her, the receiver heavy in my hand. Every option felt like a dead end. Time was slipping away, and Diane wasn’t about to let me forget it.

"Make the damn call, Nathan," she pressed, enjoying the show.

Scowling, I punched in the number that was etched into my brain from years of dangerous dealings. This was a Hail Mary if I ever tossed one. The line buzzed, and each ring echoed in the stale air of the precinct like a ticking bomb. Calling Knuckles was risky; he was Ba's former right hand…and now his greatest enemy. If Ba got wind of this, I'd be screwed.

But what choice did I have? Knuckles was the only one I knew of who could possibly help me get out and who was on my side. I didn’t want to work with my father—not after what I’d seen with Ma. Even if I’d wanted to continue pretending we were allies, he would know I’d betrayed him once he realized Alex escaped.

If Alex escaped.

"Come on, come on," I muttered under my breath.

Diane leaned against the wall, her arms folded as she watched me with predatory interest. She knew this call meant something, but she couldn’t know how much.

Ring after ring, no answer. Damn it, Knuckles was supposed to be reachable 24/7. My mind raced. Was he busy? Or worse, had he been taken out? Ba knew about his betrayal, knew he’d slept with my mother, that he was Justin’s father. If Ba had sent assassins after Justin, he’d definitely sent them after Knuckles too.

He was probably dead.

I was alone in this.

The call went to voicemail, and I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the precinct's air conditioning. "You've reached the voicemail box of…" a robotic voice started, but I didn't need the introduction. The voicemail beeped and I cleared my throat.

"Hey," I said, trying to sound calm and collected. "It's me. Just…take care of the family, will you?"

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