Page 91 of Serpent King's Revenge

We’d spent the rest of our ride with my dad making calls–reaching out to women from the teahouse, tracking down Xinyi Lin and her people. They were injured, they’d lost a few folks…but they weren’t broken. None of us were.

We were all intent on putting an end to Kenny Zhou’s reign of terror.

Coming back to 118 California was oddly like coming home–and even if that meant the Stockholm Syndrome had settled in deep, I let it comfort me. We took the utility elevator up to the apartment, then we punched in the code to let ourselves in.

Justin and Lily had tidied up before we left the last time, but it wasn’t nearly as tidy as Nathan liked it. I saw him take in the scene–a blanket strewn across the couch rather than folded, cat hair on the furniture, dishes still on the drying rack beside the sink.

He sighed and I patted him on the back.

“Next time, leave better check-out instructions,” I said with a plastered-on smile.

He huffed out a laugh. “I’ll try to remember that if I land in prison again.”

I sat down on the couch and looked around, taking in my surroundings. This was all so fucking surreal. I’d been chained to this couch not too long ago…thought I was going to die.

Now, I was pregnant with my captor’s baby.

I was in love.

And I was going to kill his father.

Life is funny sometimes.

Nathan came and sat next to me, then passed me a plain black flip phone. I frowned and looked up at him, and he shrugged. “It’s a burner that can reach my father,” he said. “I keep a stash of them here.”

“It’s so easy to forget you’re a gangster,” I said, shaking my head. “So…we call him?”

“Text,” Nathan said. “People don’t call him; he calls them.”

“Okay–and what do I say?”

“Tell him…” Nathan paused. “Tell him you want to talk. He’ll call.”

I stared at him, tilting my head. “Should we make up a story? Say you’re dead, maybe–”

Nathan shook his head. “We need to save our lies to the bitter end,” he said. “He’ll see through them. Until this is done…we need to be as transparent as possible.”

“Okay,” I said. “Okay.”

Nathan reached out and gripped my shoulder. “You’ve got this,” he murmured.

I flipped the phone open and the screen glowed blue, illuminating both of us. Then I sent the text, keeping it simple.

Let’s talk.

Sending that text felt like a death sentence–like jumping into shark-infested waters. “Now what?” I asked.

“Now we–”

The phone erupted into a shrill ring, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I answered without hesitation, my voice a shaky blend of wariness and resolve. It was Kenny on the line; his tone dripped with venomous triumph, sending chills down my spine.

"Abigail," he sneered, "So you came crawling back.”

Those words…they made me want to puke. I’d promised myself I would keep my composure…but I couldn’t.

“Not crawling,” I said. “We want back into the fold…with dignity. It’s time for this feud to end.”

Kenny huffed out a laugh, and I could almost picture him sounding the same way when Nathan was a kid–abusing his children, his wife. “I always knew you were a viper. I should have taken you in my office when I had the chance."

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