Page 75 of Serpent King's Revenge

"More than that," he replied, looking me straight in the eye. "She's the heart of it. This was her show, Nathan."

I took a moment to let that sink in. My mother, the woman who made dinner every night, who played the perfect housewife, running an operation under everyone’s noses.

It figured.

We stepped into the room, and found my family spread around a few pushed-together tables, plates cluttered with rice and dumplings. It smelled like my mother’s kitchen, making my heart ache. Abby slid her hand into mine, giving it a squeeze as we joined them.

"Grab some grub," Justin said, passing a plate without looking up.

"Thanks," I mumbled, loading it up. Abby did the same, and soon we were munching away with the rest of them.

As I chewed on a dumpling, my eyes wandered over to Justin. He was laughing at something one of the guys said, his face lighting up in that easy way of his. And just like that, a memory flashed in my mind, a sharp contrast to the calm scene before me.

Justin, bloodied and hurt after a bombing.

A bombing that Knuckles had orchestrated.

"Everything okay?" Abby leaned in, her voice low.

"Yeah," I lied smoothly, focusing back on my food. "Just thinking about what's next."

But I couldn’t stop looking Justin, his laughter mixing with the clinking of forks and knives. I stood up, chair scraping back against the floor, and I could feel every eye in the room on me.

"Knuckles," I started, keeping my voice level, "we appreciate your help." He looked up from his coffee, brows raised, waiting. "But now," my fingers tightened around the plate, and it landed with a thud as I set it down, "I want to know why you framed one of my brothers and almost killed another."

The room went silent, all the warmth of breakfast fading into cold hard business. Knuckles put his mug down, slow and deliberate, meeting my stare without flinching.

"Let's talk," he said, and we all knew this wasn't going to be just another family chat.

Chapter Thirty-Four: Nathan

We all stood there, our eyes locked on Knuckles. He shifted under the weight of our stares, like he could feel the questions we were itching to ask just by looking at us. I kept my arms crossed and my face hard, remembering every shady deal and back alley scuffle he'd dragged me through.

He’d been like a father to me, yeah.

But that didn’t change the fact that he had almost gotten Justin killed…and Alex along with him.

"Alright," Knuckles finally said, clearing his throat. "I gotta lay it out for you guys."

His eyes met mine, and they were full of something like regret. Or maybe it was just fear. Hard to tell with him. Knuckles raked his hand through his hair, looking like he'd aged a decade in the last minute.

"Well, I guess you've figured out at least some of this by now," he started, his voice rough around the edges. He glanced around at us, finding no friendly faces. "I fell for your mom when your dad was stuck in Hong Kong. It just…happened. And it grew. We kept it up for years, sneaking off whenever we could or meeting up at that old teahouse."

"Love stories are great and all," I cut in, feeling the anger simmering beneath my skin, "but what's that got to do with Justin?"

He flinched, as if the sound of Justin's name caused him physical pain. "I didn't know he was my kid until about three weeks back—right before Evelyn…before she died." His eyes dropped to the floor, and for a second, I saw something in him break.

Justin's face was a mess of emotions, like he couldn't decide whether to punch something or just break down. Derek squeezed his hand, their cat wedged between them. I wanted to say something, anything to cut through the thick silence that had fallen over us. But my throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper.

"Even if that's all true, trying to kill him? That's how you deal with family now?" The words came out sharper than I intended, but hell, I was past caring about niceties.

Knuckles raised his hands, palms facing us, as if he could push away the accusations. "Look, I get it. You want me dead, go ahead. After Evelyn…" His voice cracked, and for a brief moment, I saw the man who had been more than just muscle in our family operation. A man broken by loss. "I got nothing left."

We all went quiet, the gravity of what was happening pressing down on us. It was one thing to be angry, another to stare down the possibility of actually ending someone who was—messy feelings aside—part of the family.

Knuckles looked from one sibling to the other, a hard edge to his jaw. "Everything I did was for her, you gotta understand that," he said, voice rough with the weight of unsaid things. "Kenny was getting wise. When it came to the burned businesses, he started thinking, maybe someone in his own house was playing him."

"So you were protecting our mother?" I asked, my arms still tight across my chest. The idea didn't settle right with me, not with what we've been through.

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