Page 94 of Serpent King's Revenge

Twelve hours to kill my father.

Twelve hours…before the end.

We stood there, my heart still racing from our conversation with my father. The chill of the rain-soaked night clung to my skin, but it was nothing compared to the cold dread that sank into my bones when we heard those words.

I always knew Ba was a piece of work, but this?

This was monstrous.

"Jesus," I muttered, shaking my head. "I knew he was bad news…"

"Bad news?" Abby said. "Nathan, this is…this is evil."

"Tell me about it." My jaw was tight enough to snap. We locked eyes for a second, and I could see the same horror reflected back at me.

Abby glanced away first, breaking the moment. She looked around the room, her face set in grim lines. In that space where talk usually was, silence hung heavy. But I was thankful for it. Thankful she didn't ask if I was okay because I wasn't sure I could lie convincingly.

Hell, I wasn't sure of anything except the mess that was piling up around us.

"Come on," she finally said, her voice all business. "We both need a shower, then we need to start making calls."

Abby's hand closed around mine, her grip firm as she pulled me toward the bathroom. The same place where only weeks ago I was patching up wounds I’d placed on her, watching blood mix with water on tile.

I’d nearly killed her.

The thought twisted in my gut.

"Come on," she said, a no-nonsense edge to her voice.

We stepped into the bathroom, and she let go of my hand to start the shower. Water hissed against the stall, steam curling up towards the ceiling. She peeled off her shirt and chucked it onto the floor. It landed with a wet slap, the fabric darkened by rain and sweat.

I caught my reflection in the mirror. Stubble roughed up my jawline, hair a tangled mess. I looked like hell. A haircut and shave were overdue, but then again, so was a decent night's sleep.

I turned away from the haunting man in the mirror and saw Abby. She was shedding her clothes, not even a glance in my direction. The sight of her unguarded like this, it did things to me, stirred up a mess of things I couldn't sort out.

"Abby," I said, my voice low. I stopped her mid-motion, catching her arm. Her eyes met mine, and they held that fire, that fight she never lost no matter how deep we were in this hellhole.

"You should've left me by now." My hand tightened on her arm, but not enough to hurt, just enough to feel real. "I don't deserve you being here, sticking around for—"

Fuck!

I felt the slap more than I heard it, a sharp crack against my cheek that snapped my head to the side. My skin stung, my ears rang, and for a moment, the world was just pain and shock.

"Look," Abby's voice cut through the haze, "I'm sorry, I know you've been slapped a lot lately…but you can fuck right off."

I blinked, shaking off the sting. Her glare pinned me against the wall harder than any bullet could. Her eyes were like twin storms, and I was standing dead center in the path of destruction.

There was no shelter here, no mercy—just Abby, raw and fierce and unyielding.

"Look, I didn't mean it that way," I said, my voice more tired than I wanted it to be. But Abby wasn't having any of it. She crossed her arms over her chest, her wet hair clinging to her face like she'd just been through another kind of storm.

"Doesn't matter," she shot back. "I'm not going anywhere. And you? You need to get used to it. So, are we showering or what?"

I stopped dead, frozen by her willpower.

Then I started moving again.

Without another word, I started undressing. My movements were robotic, as if someone else was controlling my limbs. Shirt off, pants unbuttoned—I was on autopilot, stripping away the day's horrors along with my clothes.

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