Lib Novel Page 66
The resolve in my voice was as much for him as it was a promise to myself. This world, this life—it had tried to break us both in different ways, but here we were, clinging to each other amidst the chaos.
Nathan’s hand reached up, fingers brushing against my cheek with a tenderness that belied the harshness of his world. His touch was a balm, soothing the raw edges of my soul.
“I’m glad,” he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken stories, of blood and loss. “Because Kenny Zhou made me the monster I am…but I don’t want to be like him.”
I watched him, the long set of his lashes, the lines of his neck. “Have you ever thought about killing him?”
He laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “I used to think about it every single day of my life. But there’s no way, Abby. He’s in the roots of everything our family does, entrenched in it all.”
“Okay,” I replied. “But if this were a garden, wouldn’t you be taking care of the rot?”
Chapter Thirty-Two: Nathan
Sunlight filtered in through the blinds, casting a muted glow across the room. I blinked away the remnants of sleep, my arm draped over Abby’s waist, her head resting against my chest. The steady rise and fall of her breathing, the warmth of her skin against mine—it was as if everything outside this moment had ceased to exist.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the knots in my stomach loosened, the weight on my shoulders lifted. We were together, really together—engaged, with no more secrets or half-truths hovering between us. It was as though we’d stepped out of a long, tumultuous storm into a rare, tranquil clearing.
Careful not to disturb her, I shifted, feeling the brush of her hair against my skin. She murmured something inaudible and nuzzled closer in her sleep. With a tenderness that surprised even me, I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
Her presence, the quiet assurance of her love…it grounded me in ways I hadn’t known I needed.
I slid out from under the covers with a cautious grace, putting distance between us for the first time since last night’s confessions. Every muscle moved with deliberate silence, an expertise honed by years of necessity. This morning couldn’t be spoiled—not by old ghosts, not by lingering shadows from my past life.
Abby deserved this peace, however fleeting.
Easing my feet onto the cool hardwood floor, I stood and glanced back at her. She was still lost in slumber, a serene expression on her face. I couldn’t help but linger for just a second longer, savoring the sight of her so relaxed, so unburdened. Then, with one last look, I made my way out of the bedroom, leaving her to rest.
Descending the stairs with practiced quiet, I found myself enveloped by the early morning stillness of our home. Every step I took was a deliberate move away from the chaos that had once defined my life. The shadows clung to the corners of the living room, but they didn’t hold any power over me—not anymore.
I reached the kitchen, switched on the overhead light, and the soft glow pushed back the remnants of darkness. The familiar ritual of making coffee began—filling the pot with water, measuring out the grounds. The scent of the beans was rich and promising, a stark difference from the acrid burn of gunpowder and fear that had once filled my mornings.
As the coffee maker gurgled to life, I leaned against the counter, allowing myself a moment to reflect. This was different. So very different from the day Tyler Matthews’ life ended at my hands. That blood-stained dawn had been a turning point, one that had almost cost me everything.
But not today.
Today, there was no looking over my shoulder, no calculating risks and exits. Today, it was just Abby and me, and the simple, domestic act of brewing coffee. A symbol of normalcy, of a future we were daring to build together, despite the odds stacked against us.
A smile tugged at my lips. We’d come so far, her and I. Last night, I’d laid bare the darkest parts of my soul, expecting revulsion or fear. But in Abby’s eyes, I’d seen only understanding and acceptance.
For the first time, I felt truly known.
The machine beeped, signaling the coffee was ready. Pouring two cups, I let the warmth seep into my palms. Abby would be waking soon, and I wanted this—just a few moments of peace with her before the rest of the world clawed its way in.
The shrill ring of my phone shattered the serenity, a harsh reminder that peace was fleeting. With a sigh, I set down the coffee cup and fished the phone from my pocket. Unknown number. My heart kicked against my chest—this could be Triad business or another threat.
“Hello?” I answered, my voice steady despite the racing pulse.
Silence greeted me on the other end, thick and waiting. “Who is this?” I demanded, my patience fraying. The last thing I needed was some cryptic bullshit so early in the morning.
A pause lingered before a voice broke through, barely above a whisper, one I hadn’t heard in far too long.
“Hey, big brother.”
Blood roared in my ears as Alex’s voice, strained and weary, filled the silence between us. “Are you somewhere secure?” I found myself asking, my voice a mix of concern and bitterness. After all, if he wasn’t safe, neither were we.
“Yeah, for now,” Alex responded, his tone guarded.
“Good.” My words were clipped, the tension between duty and anger pulling taut. “I’m not going to ask where you are. I don’t want to know.”