Page 119 of Servitude to Serpents

Fucking get it together. My eyes scan the bar, the outside walkway in front.

It’s one guy, but fuck, he’s fit as hell.

It takes me a moment to register what’s happening when he slides the phone across the bar. A cold sweat prickles under my cap when my eyes meet the panicked expression of my wife, Em sleeping beside her on the couch.

“What the fuck—”

“Text Brady, Tim. You’re wasting my time.”

I fumble, my eyes darting to my family again.

“Calm yourself. Things will only get messier if you make a scene.”

“Man, I don’t—”

The next time he looks at me, it's like looking at a fucking snake, and I’m realizing hisfriendsdon’t call him Basilisk. “Text Brady.”

“Please don’t hurt them, man. I just message the guy once we’ve gota girl—”

When his glass hits the bar top, it’s loud, making the nearby patrons glance over. My pulse jumps, my eyes wide with panic. He takes a calming breath; I don’t think it works. If his cold eyes were terrifying, what’s on his face now is…

More.

Just more.

Fuck, why is nobody helping me?

Why the fuck won’t they do something?

Sound from the phone below my nose jerks my eyes down as Em stirs on the couch, my wife’s hands gripping her thighs so hard, her knuckles are white.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck.

I text Brady with shaky hands, and the bitch replies immediately.

Brady:B there in 5. Dose?

I show the man, and he only nods, straightening the gold snake cuffs on his sleeves, as casual as can be.

Me:ready to go

Then, we wait.

Each second is like a battering ram until my phone dings again.

Basilisk checks my phone before I do, downing the rest of his drink before standing. My whole body trembles as he heads toward the back exit, and I glance down at my phone.

Brady:ready

He’s leaving.

Just like that.

But the phone is still here, the stream of my family still playing. My heart wrenches as Em starts crying. Lou doesn’t help her, staring in horror at someone off-screen as an older man steps into the frame, covering my daughter back up with her blanket. I have to swallow past the fear lodged in my throat.

I close the bar in record time, my pulse threatening to jump clear from my neck, vomit swirling in my gut.

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