Serpent King's Bride: A Dark Mafia Romance Trilogy

Page 109



The air between them crackled with a lifetime of secrets and unspoken truths, a dance of power where only one could lead. Ba’s grip on the gun tightened, an unspoken threat that lingered like a shadow over us all.

I stood motionless, my own weapon holstered, useless against the army of loyal bodyguards that surrounded us. My mind raced with thoughts of Abby, Lily and Justin, the lives hanging in the balance beyond these walls. I wanted to rage, to fight, to scream—but survival meant playing the part, just as Ma had taught me.

“Where’s Knuckles?” I managed to force the words through a throat constricted by fear. “Seems he’s the one you should really be angry at.”

Ba’s eyes flicked toward me, a momentary distraction from his contempt for Ma. “Knuckles?” He shook his head with a scornful laugh. “I don’t know where that traitor slithered off to, but it won’t matter soon. He’ll be dead soon enough…along with his bastard son.” His gaze narrowed as he turned back to me, the question implicit in his stare. “Have you taken care of Alex? It’s time we took out the trash.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. Lying was second nature in our world, but never had a falsehood weighed so heavily on me. I met Ba’s gaze, masking the turmoil inside.

I knew this would break my mother, but I had to do it if I wanted either of us to get out of this alive.

“Yes,” I lied smoothly, the word tasting like ash on my tongue.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ma’s expression crumble, her spirit fracturing with the weight of my betrayal. The lie was necessary, a shield to protect Alex from the crosshairs of Ba’s wrath, but that knowledge did little to ease the pain.

Ma’s sobbing filled the air, raw and wrenching. She looked up at Kenny through a veil of tears that cut streaks through the dried blood on her cheeks. The words that spilled from her lips were laced with venom and despair. “You’re a cruel and vicious man, Kenny. A disease, and the Serpents will be better off without—“

The report of the gun was deafening, echoing off the walls of the room like some unholy gavel delivering its final verdict. Ma slumped forward, life extinguishing in an instant, body limp in the ropes tied to the chair.

My mother was dead.

Sudden. Swift.

Brutal.

My throat tightened until I thought I might choke on my own heartbeat, but I forced my expression into one of cold indifference. I couldn’t let Ba see the chaos raging inside me. Couldn’t let him see how his bullet had struck me just as surely as it had struck Ma.

I stood there, mute, my gaze fixed on Ma’s body as if I could somehow will her back to life. In the background, I heard Ba’s voice, but the words were distant, muffled by the pounding of blood in my ears. All I could think about was Abby and Justin, hiding away in the apartment, unaware of the storm that raged on the horizon. I had promised Abby I’d return to her, and I intended to keep that promise, even as the urge to lunge at Ba, to throttle the life from him with my bare hands, surged within me like a living thing.

But I knew the consequences. The bodyguards—silent sentinels of death—wouldn’t hesitate. Their loyalty to the Serpent was unyielding, bought with blood and fear.

So I stood still.

I waited…because I knew we were going to bring him down.

The Serpent turned to face me, his eyes probing for a crack in my armor. He expected tears, a breakdown, any sign of weakness he could pounce on. But he found none. My face was stone; every muscle set in grim determination.

“Congratulations,” he said, lips twisting in a manic grin. “You are now the official heir to the Golden Serpents. My last remaining son…my most loyal weapon.”

But he had no idea what I actually was.

A dragon—ready to defend his family to the death.

Chapter Fifty-One: Abby

Thank fuck Nathan had given me his panic room codes…because they were the same ones he used for all those locked drawers and cabinets at 118 California.

Once it had been my prison; now, it was our salvation.

Blood dripped onto the white tile of the kitchen floor, a stark reminder that I was miles away from any sterile hospital bed. My fingers, slick with red, fumbled through the first aid kit on the counter. Justin stood by, his hands hovering, ready to assist but clearly out of his element in this grim parody of domesticity.

“Bandages…antiseptic…” I muttered, cataloging items more for focus than necessity. Pain flared in my abdomen, an insistent throb that punctuated each breath. The wound needed more care, a professional’s touch, but for now, it was just Justin and his boyfriend watching me in this sterile little apartment.

It was perfectly clean–as if I hadn’t been held captive, brutalized, and pleasured here until I didn’t know where Nathan ended and I began.

He had to be okay.

“Here, let me help.” Justin’s voice was steady, belying the worry in his brown eyes as he took the antiseptic from my shaky grasp. Carefully, he dabbed at the edges of the wound, his movements tentative but precise. Unlike his brother, violence wasn’t woven into the fabric of his existence. He was a student, dragged into this life by blood, not choice. That much was easy to see.


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