Page 24 of Serpent King's Revenge

Owen scribbled the information onto a piece of paper, his movements quick and precise. “And Serpents HQ,” I suddenly added. “It’s in the tunnels under—”

Without warning Owen shushed me and his hand shot out and grabbed mine, squeezing tight enough to ground me back into the now. I almost yanked away from the touch, not used to kindness without a price. My chest tightened, and I fought against the feeling clawing its way up my throat.

"Time's up," Owen murmured, glancing at the camera in the corner of the room with a hint of disgust.

I nodded, understanding the silent message—we weren't alone anymore. Whatever ears were listening, they didn't need to know any more. We'd said too much already, treaded on dangerous ground.

And through the haze of solitary, through my flirtation with madness…I remembered I had one more thing to tell him.

"Warn her," I whispered. My voice was rough, barely a thread of sound, but I needed Owen to hear me. "Her old boss knows she's involved. Don’t trust anyone."

He stood up and straightened out his blazer, a deliberate motion that told me he was gearing back up for the world outside this room—a world I didn't belong to anymore.

"I'll tell the guards to let you clean up, get some real food in you," he said, shaking his head with a hint of disbelief at what had become of me. "And a cell to yourself—not solitary, so you can at least see the sky. As long as you're talking, they'll want to keep you breathing."

His eyes darted to the camera again, and I understood the message. We were playing a game with high stakes—my life being one of them.

"Thank you," I rasped, the words scraping my dry throat like sandpaper. I meant it, though.

The door closed behind Owen with a soft click, leaving me alone in the cold, sterile room. That's when I saw her again, that shadowy figure crouched in the corner, eyes wide and unblinking, staring straight at me. It didn’t look anything like my mother…but now I knew it was her. A trick my mind was playing on me, a plea for justice.

"Ma," I whispered, my voice barely above the hum of silence that filled the space. "I know, Ma… I know." My gaze held steady on her, even as the chill of her imagined presence made me shiver.

I promised her, though she was just a figment of my fractured mind, "I'll make things right."

It was a vow, one I intended to keep, no matter what it took. For Ma. For Abby. For all the souls entangled in the Serpent's dark web.

I would bring it crashing down, or die trying.

Chapter Ten: Abby

Ireached for a glass, the tap's cold rush a brief respite from the stifling heat of the kitchen. The afternoon sun slanted through the tinted windows, throwing long shadows over Derek, Lily, and Justin who sat like specters around the coffee tables. We'd almost skipped lunch, our stomachs unsettled at the prospect that Nathan was in danger…or maybe even dead.

He couldn’t be.

I would have felt it…right?

"Maybe we need a minute," Derek said. “I think I saw some games in the TV stand…”

“Seriously?” I asked. “I didn’t know Nathan kept games here.”

Lily's face brightened at the suggestion and she got up with more energy than I expected, racing over to the TV stand and digging through it for a couple minutes before emerging victorious with a deck of Uno cards. "Let's break this deck in," she chimed, flipping the box open with a flick of her wrist.

Justin started stacking empty plates, moving with that mechanical precision he got when his mind was elsewhere—probably on the fact that his mom was dead or that he wasn’t Kenny’s son. I wasn’t sure. I moved to help, picking up crumpled napkins and half-empty cups. It was easier than thinking about Nathan, who still didn’t know I was pregnant–unless my dad had somehow managed to speak to him. I hadn’t heard from him yet and it was driving me crazy.

“Speaking of breaks…maybe we should take a break from strategizing and freaking out?” Derek murmured. “I think it would be good for all of us.”

"Breaks are for quitters," I joked weakly, trying to match their mood, but my laughter didn't quite reach my eyes. Nathan was locked up in jail, probably fighting for his life, and here we were, about to indulge in a game meant for kids. But I was also looking after his siblings, and that would be exactly what he wanted me to do.

I was certain of it.

I sank into the plush sofa. My fingers blindly scavenged through the bowl of pretzels on the coffee table, each crunch a muffled echo in my ears.

As I watched Lily shuffle the Uno cards, laughter and banter began to fill the room–mostly over Bao, who had come over and was batting at Lily’s hands as she shuffled. But underneath it, an undercurrent of worry lingered. The decision I harbored was a heavy shadow, threatening to darken every corner of my mind.

Because while we agonized over Nathan, wondered if Alex was safe, tried to figure out how we would all survive…I was also deciding if I would keep my baby.

To keep the baby meant a life chained to this perpetual cycle of danger and distrust; to end it promised freedom, yet the sort that left one hauntingly hollow. I wanted to have a baby with Nathan. I really did. Maybe it was stupid…but it made perfect sense in my head.

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