Lib Novel Page 78
“Absolutely,” she answered, her voice steady as the pulse I felt beneath my fingertips.
We descended, the stairs a narrow coil of concrete winding down into the belly of the city. The air grew cooler, damper, with each step, like diving into a lake’s depths.
“Where are we?” Abby’s voice echoed slightly off the close walls.
“Old Prohibition-era tunnels,” I said low enough so only she could hear. “They’re all over the city.”
“Is this how you get around unnoticed?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “This is how I took you to 118 California that night you found me at Grant Avenue Floral.”
“Crafty,” she remarked, a playful note in her voice despite the situation.
“Comes with the territory.”
I sensed her nod, even though I couldn’t see her face. We continued on, our footsteps a muted shuffle against the dirt floor. Abby’s grip on my hand tightened fractionally as we navigated the turns and junctions of the labyrinthine passages.
The further we walked, the more I felt the weight of what I was about to do. Initiating Abby into this life—it wasn’t fair to her. But it wasn’t just about fairness; it was about survival. And she was too important to lose.
“Are those voices?” she whispered, tension seeping into her words.
“Yeah—we’re almost there,” I assured her, though I was unsure whether it was indeed reassurance or a warning.
Ahead, the darkness gave way to a soft, amber glow. Murmuring voices filtered through the stillness, growing clearer as we approached the source. My steps slowed, caution taking over instinct as I reached another disguised door, this one a seamless part of the tunnel wall.
I released Abby’s hand for a moment to punch in yet another series of digits; memorized codes the keys to the kingdom. The lock disengaged with a soft beep, and the door swung open soundlessly on well-oiled hinges. A warm light spilled out, inviting yet dangerous, and I couldn’t stop the swell of pride at the sight of the world I was bringing her into—a world where strength and loyalty ruled, a world that would now be hers too.
In a way, I loved this life as much as I hated it.
“Welcome to the Serpent’s Den,” I said, a hint of ceremony in my voice as I guided her through the threshold and into the beating heart of our empire.
The Serpents’ HQ was usually just an echo of empty space and concrete, but tonight it was transformed. Gold silk banners hung from the rafters, their luxurious sheen catching the light from the vintage bulbs overhead. About two dozen men and their wives were scattered around, their voices a low hum of conversation that bounced off the walls. They were the upper crust of the Serpents—moneyed, powerful, and dangerous—and they mingled like they were at some high-class cocktail party instead of in the bowels of Chinatown.
Guards stood by the doors, their eyes sharp beneath the brims of their hats. One of them nodded at me—respect in his gaze—and I knew this was more than acknowledgment. It was acceptance.
I didn’t recognize a single one of them, which set me ill at ease…but I knew we had to go through with this.
We were in too deep to turn back.
“Time for you to really see,” I said, my fingers working deftly as I pulled off Abby’s blindfold and tucked the fabric into my pocket. Her eyes blinked against the sudden illumination, adjusting to the clandestine opulence before us.
Abby’s gaze darted around, taking in every detail with that curious, analytical stare that both infuriated and thrilled me. She was all wide eyes and raw wonder, a stark contrast to the hardened criminals that surrounded us.
“Remember, act natural,” I murmured, squeezing her hand. “No veiled interrogations or talk about the fires or anything else. Tonight, you’re one of us.”
I could feel her nod, her grip on my hand tightening just slightly. Silence settled between us, loaded with unspoken understanding. She was good at playing roles—she had to be in her line of work—but this wasn’t a role. This was her crossing into my world for real, and the gravity of it weighed heavy on my chest.
“Got it,” she replied, her voice steady yet soft, betraying none of the nerves I knew thrummed beneath her skin.
“Abby!”
The name cut through the low hum of conversations, a beacon in the sea of unfamiliar faces. We both turned toward the voice. Lily, clearly nervous from the look on her face, was weaving through the crowd with my mother by her side. They were dressed up for the occasion—their dresses simple but elegant, a silent nod to the gravity of tonight’s ceremony.
“Hey,” Abby breathed out, a small smile flickering on her lips as Lily reached us and pulled her into a hug. It was a brief, careful embrace, the kind exchanged between soldiers rather than friends.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Lily whispered into Abby’s ear. “This is all really intimidating.”
Her words hung in the air like smoke, a truth that resonated deep within my bones. I knew all too well the uneasy dance between fear and duty that played out in the minds of those who stepped into our world.