Page 52 of Serpent King's Revenge

They could strip search me a hundred times if it meant getting through to Abby.

"Move," the other guard ordered once they were satisfied I wasn't hiding any contraband. I pulled on the set of clean-ish clothes they tossed at me—a thin concession from that lawyer of mine.

I kept my face blank, betraying nothing. My ribs didn't ache anymore, at least not like they used to; they'd healed crooked but strong. I was past caring about a little discomfort, though. There was only one thing that could get to me now, and she was waiting on the other side of whatever hell they wanted to put me through first.

The clank of metal echoed as the cuffs fell away from my wrists. The guards stood stone-faced, nodding at the door ahead. I rubbed my wrists, but there was no time to savor the freedom. They nudged me forward. I stepped into the room and scanned it quick. Four walls, a table, a bed. Nothing else.

My gut twisted.

Was this some kind of trick?

"Sit," one guard said, his voice flat.

I did as I was told. I’d only gotten this far by behaving myself, ever since I’d gotten out of the hell of Diane Hayes’s watch.

The silence hung heavy until it was sliced by a distant buzz. One that meant doors were opening somewhere out of sight. It happened again, closer this time. Then footsteps. Not the hard soles of guards' boots—these were softer, hesitant.

My palms got sweaty, my heart pounded like it wanted out. Every noise ramped up the buzz under my skin, a mix of hope and raw nerves. Abby was close, she had to be. I forced myself to breathe even, not letting on how much this moment was doing to me.

The door swung open.

Abby stepped in.

I couldn’t breathe.

Sunlight from the hall framed her like she was part of some dream I had no right to have. Her cheeks were rosy, her green eyes bright, lips red.

Fuck…she was my perfect, fucked up angel.

"Abby," I managed.

She paused, just a step inside, and our eyes locked. It was like the first time all over again. She hadn't changed—same fire in her gaze, same way of holding herself like she could take on the world and win.

"Hey, Nathan," she said, her lips curving into that smile that always knocked me sideways.

We stayed there for a moment, drinking each other in. The room fell away until it was just me and her and the space closing between us. My chest tightened, heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted to break free.

Then I was up.

I couldn’t stop myself.

She met me halfway, moving toward me, any pretense of calm cast aside. My arms came around her and it felt like coming home, like nothing else would ever be as right as having her in my arms. She was warm, soft…I needed her.

And I already knew that soon, I would lose her again.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Abby

The sterile white of the private room was all wrong.

This place…it was so plain, so strange, so alien.

But Nathan? He felt like he always had–like home, like danger, like all the things I was addicted to. He smelled like off-brand soap, not like the expensive cologne I was used to…but he felt the same.

My love. My ruin.

The father of our child.

I clung to him, inhaled him, felt every hard muscle and every old scar. He buried his face in my hair and breathed deep, while I rested my forehead against his chest and gripped his t-shirt like no one could tear me away.

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