Page 78 of Serpent King's Revenge

"You killed my husband…almost killed my son. But now, you're our only option."

The words hung there, heavy. She didn't tell me to stand. I dared a glance to the side; Abby's sneakers were planted firm beside me. I could feel her tense up, ready to jump into action if needed.

I prayed she wouldn’t. This wasn’t her fight.

Footsteps echoed, getting louder, coming closer. My family, I knew without looking. They lined up with us, united in this messed-up moment.

"Get up," Xinyi's voice was hard, no room for debate.

I pushed myself off the floor, muscles tight, and faced her. Her hand whipped out, connecting with my cheek in a sharp crack that echoed through the silence of the room. The sting spread across my face, hot and immediate.

I didn't move. Didn't even blink.

The slap hung in the air, time grinding to a halt. Then Abby lurched forward, fury written clear on her face. I caught her arm before she could get past me.

"Abby, no," I said, my voice low but firm. "I deserved it."

Her eyes were wild, locked on Xinyi, but she stopped. She stood there, breathing hard, and finally took a step back. I turned my head slightly, feeling the heat from where Xinyi's palm had met my skin.

It was a mark I'd earned. A small payment for a debt too large to ever fully repay.

I stood there, cheek still stinging, when I caught sight of Andrew Lin. He was a statue behind his mother, his face unreadable. But his hand…it gave him away. It twitched and jerked like it was dancing to some chaotic tune only he could hear. My gut twisted. The fingers didn't line up right—they were a mess because of me. I vividly remembered plunging a fork through his hand…and then breaking his leg. His limp was my doing too.

"Andrew," I started, my voice rough around the edges. "I'm sorry, man. Really, I am." I bowed my head again, not daring to look up at him. I had hurt him, but in this moment, all the pride and anger I held onto before seemed small and petty.

Xinyi's eyes locked on mine after a tense pause. "It doesn't matter now," she said. Her voice was calmer, almost soft, but it carried weight, demanded attention. "Evelyn was a dear friend. She worried you'd follow in your father's footsteps."

I swallowed hard, bracing myself for what was coming next, but Xinyi surprised me.

"Your being here," she continued, "It shows you haven't turned into him. And your mother…she was proud of you. She believed in you. Believed that you were the one who would one day unseat your father."

There was something like respect—or maybe just acceptance—in her gaze. She believed in Ma's judgment, even if forgiving me wasn't fully in the cards yet.

The air felt different after that, charged with something new. It wasn't forgiveness, not exactly, but it was a start—a chance for something other than blood and regret between us.

"Now, let’s talk," Xinyi said. "We've got work to do."

I nodded, biting back any words that might've spilled out. It was time for business, and the heavy feeling in my chest agreed, ready to shift from grief to action.

We all moved together, a quiet procession back to the meeting room. Abby stayed close, her presence a steady beat beside me. The others fell into step: Knuckles with his ever-watchful eyes; Lily, Justin, and Alex whispering to each other.

The meeting room welcomed us back with its familiar leather and wood scent. Some women I recognized from the teahouse were already there, their faces serious, their postures ready. They must have been waiting, knowing what was coming next.

Xinyi took her place at the head of the table, the matriarch of this twisted family reunion. Without a word, she clasped her hands together, commanding the room’s attention.

"Kenny's gone too far," she said, her voice steady. "It's time we made our move."

Chapter Thirty-Six: Abby

Kenny, known in hushed tones as the Serpent's Head, had been calling the shots for too long.

He’d threatened me, threatened us all. Killed his wife. Brutalized his family.

Kenny would do whatever it took to destroy Nathan…but not if we destroyed him first.

I took note of the others gathered here. The Triad wives hid their tension; beneath their skirts, they hid their weapons.

Knuckles was there too, muscles tensed like coiled springs beneath his suit. He was anxious–I got that. I initially assumed he was in control. But, it was clear that the women were the real force behind the insurgents.

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