Page 34 of Serpent King's Revenge

I told myself that if Kenny wanted to kill me, I would already be dead—but I didn’t see myself getting away from all these men.

Fuck.

I was only freed from my blindfold once we got inside the den, my eyes slowly adjusting to the new light. Kenny’s office was just ahead, behind a golden door. As I crossed the threshold into his office, time seemed to slow, my senses sharpening under the weight of the moment. The place smelled like history—a blend of oolong tea, seasoned wood, and worn leather that brought an unexpected comfort.

But there was nothing comforting about Kenny Zhou, the Serpent, who sat shrouded in shadows behind his desk.

"Sit down, Abby," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. He didn't look at me, but I felt his awareness as tangible as the delicate china in his hands.

Steam rose between us.

I settled into the chair across from Kenny, my spine rigid against the ornate backrest. The exits were etched into my mind's map, escape routes planned, even as I lamented the absence of the comforting weight of a gun at my side.

"Tell me how Nathan is doing," he murmured.

I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him.”

“Aren’t you his fiancee?”

I could tell he was trying to push my buttons…and I hated him.

"Do you know he's in jail?" I asked.

"Of course I do," Kenny replied without missing a beat, his gaze fixed on me with an unsettling calmness. “I know everything."

I watched him, wondering if he knew how much Nathan had told me about him. A pause lingered in the air before he continued, coolly detached. "And don't put too much stock in what he says. Nathan has always had a problem with the truth."

I recognized the armor in his words immediately. Kenny was circling the wagons around himself, likely aware that I had gathered extensive intel on his operations and his vulnerabilities. Yet there was more to it than mere self-preservation; this man was a monster who had terrorized his own flesh and blood. The abuse Nathan had suffered at his hands was something I couldn't, wouldn't, overlook.

As our eyes locked, I pieced together my next move. My mind conjured images of retribution, each one ending with Kenny's downfall. It was more than justice; it was a promise to myself.

I would be the one to end his reign of terror.

"Mr. Zhou," I began, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. "Nathan isn't doing anyone any good in jail." I watched him closely, gauging his reaction as I ventured into dangerous territory with my next words. "All he wants is to make his father proud."

The air seemed to still around us with the weight of my statement. Kenny's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. It was a fleeting moment where something unguarded flashed across his features—anger, perhaps, or the sting of paternal disappointment.

It was hard to tell with a man whose emotions were as guarded as his criminal empire.

"Let's talk about what we can do to change that situation," I said, my voice laced with a confidence I hoped would carry me through what was to come.

Kenny studied me with a skeptical eye, the silence stretching out between us. He leaned back in his chair, his face impassive but his eyes…those damned eyes flickered with caution, suspicion.

"You're in no position to change anything," he said finally, his tone ice-cold. His dismissive gaze swept over me, assessing,picking apart my audacity, my gall to confront him.

But I wasn't deterred. If anything, his resistance fueled the flames that had slowly been building within me since I'd first heard about Nathan's arrest.

“Then why am I here? You must think I’m useful somehow if you had your men grab me off the street.”

“I thought you might provide some insight into what’s happening with Nathan.”

"I can't help you if you don't trust me," I replied, my words measured and calm. There it was, the bait. A simple phrase that could either reel him in or send him back into his fortified shell. My heart pounded in my chest, but I maintained my composed exterior.

"I don't trust anyone, Abigail," Kenny declared, and there was no mistaking the warning in his stern gaze.

“Why?” I asked, innocently. Kenny didn’t know I was an FBI agent. If he did, I would be dead. “We’re about to be family.”

Kenny Zhou stared at me, his dark eyes probing mine for signs of deceit. In that moment, my cover as Abby Harper was more than just an act–it was my lifeline. I was not the trained FBI agent with a personal vendetta against him; I was merely a woman who loved his son and wanted to see justice served.

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