Lib Novel Page 89
Then it clicked—the serpent necklace, the one I’d given to Abby.
It had cut me, the sharp edge of the pendant slicing over my heart during our fervor. I turned back to Abby, who watched me with drowsy, concerned eyes.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice soft and husky from satisfaction.
“Yeah, just a scratch,” I said, downplaying the sting that seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat.
The irony wasn’t lost on me—the gift I’d given her, representing protection and power, now drawing blood so close to my heart. A vivid reminder of the life we led, where even moments of passion could bear dangerous edges.
“Let me see,” Abby insisted, sitting up. Her concern was etched across her face, a stark contrast to the satiated smile she wore just moments ago.
“It’s nothing,” I reassured her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before heading to the bathroom to clean the wound.
As water washed over the small cut, I couldn’t help but think about what this meant—the symbol of our love, literally etched in blood over my heart. A sign, perhaps, of the perilous balance between the love we shared and the shadows that always seemed to lurk at the edges of our happiness.
But no matter what, I knew I wouldn’t trade a single second of my life with Abby—not for all the peace in the world.
Chapter Forty-One: Abby
The sheets clung to our damp skin. I looked at the scratch on Nathan’s chest, which really was okay, and then rolled over as he draped his arm around me. I lay there, catching my breath, feeling Nathan’s chest heave against my back, his heartbeat thudding in sync with mine. It was getting harder to focus on the schemes and secrets that brought us together when all we seemed to do was fall back into bed, entangled and lost in each other.
Nathan kissed the top of my head, inching closer to me. “Abby?”
“Hm?”
“We need to talk.”
“Sounds ominous,” I said.
“I’m serious,” he replied.
I moved away from him, rolling over to watch him. “What?”
He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at me with those dark eyes that didn’t just see through my defenses—they dismantled them piece by piece. “I thought we could buy some time, maybe handle the arsonists first, but after tonight…but I’ve been thinking. After what my dad pulled at the initiation, it’s clear: none of us are safe.”
His words sent a cold ripple through the warm haze that enveloped us. He was right; we couldn’t afford to be distracted—not when danger lurked around every corner, ready to strike when we least expected it.
“Yeah, I can see that. Okay. So what’s our next step?” I asked, the weight of our reality pressing down on me. Nathan’s brow creased as he considered the question, the uncertainty in his eyes a mirror to my own doubts.
“I genuinely don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand found mine, his grip firm. “I need to know what you think, Abby. Your opinion…it matters to me.”
“Thought you’d want to handle all this by yourself.”
“No,” he replied. “I mean, you’re the pro.”
My heart skipped at his admission, the significance of his trust not lost on me. But as I debated how much to share, the gravity of our situation settled in my chest like lead. The memory of our new policy of complete honesty clawed its way to the forefront of my mind, and with it, an unsettling clarity.
“I mean, it’s obvious, right? Kenny…your father– he has to die, Nathan.” The words spilled from my lips before I could second-guess them.
Nathan’s gaze locked onto mine, searching, questioning, weighing the heavy truth of my declaration. We were well past the point of half-truths and veiled intentions.
Nathan was quiet for a second, his eyes dropping away from mine as if he was wading through the shadows of his thoughts. “Are you okay?” I ventured into the silence, my voice almost a trespass.
I knew his relationship with his father was delicate and while I could see how fraught it was, I didn’t want to upset him even further. That seemed…unfair. I wanted to protect him.
He exhaled slowly, a measured release of breath that seemed to carry the weight of his empire. His eyes met mine again, dark and fathomless. “Yeah. You’re right, Abby. But how?”
A sliver of hope threaded through me, delicate but fierce. “Your mom,” I said, feeling the pieces click into place like destiny unfolding. “She asked to have dinner with me. Maybe that’s our way in.”