Serpent King's Bride: A Dark Mafia Romance Trilogy

“Abby,” he whispered fiercely, his voice slicing through the night’s calm. “You might as well pull the trigger because asking me to choose between protecting you or my family…it will break me more than any bullet could.”

I felt the chill of the forest seep into my bones, but it was nothing compared to the ice in his words. The life we were entangled in, the life that he was born into and I had infiltrated, was a cruel mistress.

He didn’t want me joining the Triad; the weight of that life had bowed his shoulders in ways I’d only begun to understand. His philosophy degree from Stanford, his care for the orchids at the flower shop—they were the silent screams of a man yearning for a world beyond blood and betrayal.

An understanding of him formed, crystal clear in my mind.

I had started to get him, but now I completely understood.

“Please, Abby,” Nathan continued, his voice now barely above a whisper. “Don’t do this. Don’t become what this life will make you.”

In a fluid motion that betrayed the turmoil beneath his stoic exterior, Nathan dropped to his knees before me. His tan skin seemed to blend with the earth, grounding him in a moment of vulnerability I’d never seen in him. He reached up, his fingers wrapping around mine, which were still cold and hesitant on the grip of the gun.

“Kill me if you have to,” he said, pressing the barrel to his forehead, his brown eyes locked onto mine. “But don’t let this life kill who you are.”

My heart thundered against my ribs, a stark contrast to the serenity of the redwood giants surrounding us. “I don’t…I don’t want this…”

“If you kill me now, you could get away with all of it,” he whispered. “Tell your story to the FBI, get your dad to help you escape the Serpents. My keys are in my pocket–so kill me, leave me here, report it. Then…then we’ll both be free.”

Free of what? Free of his father, this life that had broken him?

My heart ached for him…and I knew I couldn’t pull that trigger.

“Get up, Nathan,” I said, my voice stronger than I felt.

“Please, Abby.” His plea was raw, cutting deeper than any knife. He was ready to sacrifice himself to save me from the darkness that clung to his very being.

“Damn it, Nathan, stop this!” My own desperation surged as I stared down at him, terrified that he might just tip my finger enough to end it all. His hands were still wrapped around mine, holding the gun to his own forehead, and I could feel him shaking.

“Abby…”

“Get the hell up,” I managed to choke out, my voice laced with a blend of fear and defiance. “I’m not doing this.”

“Then they’ll come for you,” he murmured, his words threading through the cool night air like smoke. “And I can’t…I won’t let that happen, Abby.”

For a moment, time stood still, the only sound our synchronized breathing and the distant call of nocturnal creatures. Nathan’s eyes never left mine, those dark pools holding me captive more than the gun ever could. The weight of the weapon seemed to magnify in my hand, each second stretching longer than the last.

“Please…” he begged, and it shattered something inside me—this man who dealt in death, begging for his own.

“Damn you, Nathan Zhou,” I whispered, my resolve fracturing. Every instinct I had screamed at me to walk away, but here I was, caught in his gravitational pull, unable to leave or to comply.

The standoff lingered, the gun a heavy presence between us, loaded with far more than bullets. It was loaded with the unbearable tension of what we were—what we could never be. And in that protracted moment, as we hovered on the precipice of life and death, I truly understood the gravity of the path I’d chosen when I entangled my fate with his.

I couldn’t shoot Nathan. But I also couldn’t let him go, not with the secrets he had locked behind those inscrutable eyes. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a reminder of how far I’d strayed from my mission, from the woman I was supposed to be. The FBI agent in me warred with the woman who had come to know the man behind the mafia prince façade.

“Abby, don’t.” His voice was stern now, a command that tried to bridge the distance our silent standoff had created.

But I was done with commands.

Done with being pulled by strings I didn’t control.

In a move that felt like clawing back some semblance of power, I shifted the gun with an unsteady hand and pressed the cold barrel under my chin. His name was a prayer and a curse on my lips as I met his gaze one last time, my own eyes a tempest of fear and defiance.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t,” I demanded, my finger twitching against the trigger. “Give me something real, Nathan. Now.”

The forest held its breath with me, waiting for his answer.

Waiting to see if death would claim us both.