Page 5 of Serpent King's Revenge

"Thanks…for looking out for Justin back there. He didn’t give me all the details on the phone, but he said you were a badass."

“Ah, no problem—fuck, that hurts.”

“Yeah, being stabbed will do that,” she said matter-of-factly.

I grimaced, holding back a sarcastic laugh.

"Sorry, I know it stings," she apologized, her brown eyes flicking up to meet mine for just a second before returning to my side. "But hey, if it makes you feel any better, you're not the first stab wound I've had to patch up.”

“Yay?” I replied weakly.

She laughed. “I’m just saying. Seems like you keep saving my brothers’ asses, so…”

I let out a laugh that morphed into a wince as the pain sharpened, a reminder of the reality we were in. The laughter faded quickly, leaving an edge of discomfort hanging between us.

"Alright, Abby, deep breaths for me, okay?" Lily instructed, her voice steady. It was clear she'd done this many times before, her demeanor shifting from the kid sister to the practiced hand of someone who knew the human body's responses to trauma.

"Deep breaths, got it," I echoed.

Then she started to stitch up my shoddy work.

I kept steady, focusing on the rise and fall of my chest, trying to ignore the throb pulsing through my side. Weirdly enough, it was almost less painful when I’d stitched myself up–it gave me something to do, at least.

She pressed two fingers to my wrist, counting silently. As her brow furrowed slightly in concentration, I couldn't help but notice how young she still looked, despite the clinical detachment she displayed. This life had forced her to grow up fast, to learn skills most would never need—skills that saved lives in the shadows where law and order struggled to reach.

"Your pulse is a little fast, but that's to be expected. You’re, you know, in pain. I’ll get you something for that,” she said after a moment, her tone professional. "You're going to be fine."

"Thanks to you," I managed to say with a small smile, grateful not just for her medical assistance, but for the strength and resilience she embodied. “You’re going to be a great doctor, Lily.”

"To patients, not family. Hopefully," she replied, her hands unwavering as she prepared the antiseptic. She looked up at me with those wise-beyond-her-years eyes. "I can’t exactly put this on a resume."

I chuckled at that, despite the situation. Leave it to Lily to find humor in the bleakest of moments. The chuckle was cut short when she began dabbing at the gash on my side. The sharp, sterile smell of the antiseptic filled my nostrils, and something inside me lurched violently.

"Need…bathroom," I gasped, stumbling to my feet. The sharp pain flared with the movement, but it was nothing compared to the queasiness that threatened to overwhelm me.

"Abby, wait—your stitches!" Lily called out, but her warning fell on deaf ears.

Clutching my side, I made a beeline for the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me before sinking down onto the cool tile floor. And then, it all came pouring out—the contents of my stomach, the pent-up stress, the fear—all echoed against the unforgiving acoustics of the tiny room.

"Abby?" Lily's voice was laced with concern from the other side of the door. "Are you okay in there?"

"Fine," I croaked, not even convincing myself. "Just give me a minute."

I leaned against the cold porcelain, trying to gather the shards of my shattered dignity. Fuck. Bending over hurt so much.

After a few deep breaths, I pushed myself up and staggered to the sink. The fluorescent light flickered above as I turned the tap, the cold water a brief respite as it washed over my clammy skin. I dared a glance at the mirror, meeting the gaze of a stranger with bruised eyes and pale skin.

"Who even are you?" I muttered to the battered reflection before me. My hands trembled as I splashed my face, trying to erase the signs of weakness. I swished some cold water inside my mouth, trying to get rid of the lingering bile on my tongue.

Droplets clung to my lashes as I straightened up, eyes inadvertently dropping to the diamond on my finger—a beautiful, delicate engagement ring that now felt like an anchor pulling me down into the abyss of "what ifs." The diamond caught the light, mocking me with its sparkle. I didn’t know if Nathan would be okay…and that really fucking ate at me.

I swallowed hard, the bile rising again at the thought of him hurt—or worse. But I forced the nausea down; I couldn't afford to fall apart. Not now.

With one last look at the girl in the mirror, I willed her to transform back into the woman who could handle anything. Then, fixing my hair into a messy bun and smudging away the last traces of mascara, I stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.

Justin was leaning against the wall, concern twisting his mouth into a thin line. “You okay?”

I looked at him. “Great. Never better.”

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