Serpent King's Bride: A Dark Mafia Romance Trilogy

“Ready?” Nathan asked, his voice breaking through my thoughts. “This kind of thing…it can be a lot.”

“Let’s do this,” I replied with a nod, more to convince myself than him.

He flipped the switch, and the machine roared to life. The sound was monstrous, drowning out any second thoughts that might have crept in. As the motor hummed, an acrid stench filled the air, making me retch.

“Jesus, that’s bad,” I gasped, covering my mouth and nose with my arm.

“Yeah, remember, throwing up will make it worse,” he said as the machine started to roar and vibrate. “Come on. We need to clean the house before anyone else shows up.”

I stumbled after him, my mind reeling. The gravity of what we’d done—what I’d become a part of—was suffocating. But there was no time to dwell on it. Nathan was right; we had to act fast.

“Where do we even start?” I asked as we emerged from the basement into the cleaner air of the main floor.

“Follow my lead,” Nathan replied, his eyes scanning the room with a strategic focus I knew all too well. “We’ll make it spotless. Just in case.”

I followed him up the stairs. “In case of what?”

He craned his neck to look back at me. “What do you mean, in case of what? In case, when the law comes back, they have a warrant.”

Chapter Five: Nathan

Tyler Matthews was dead…and I didn’t regret it.

Blood was everywhere, the only remaining evidence the violence that had occurred less than an hour ago. Abby and I moved in tandem, scrubbing away every scarlet drop, in sync just like we’d been when we cleaned up 118 California after her kidnapping. She was eerily calm, the kind of tranquility that only comes from having faced chaos too many times.

Meanwhile, my heart thundered against my ribcage, an incessant drum demanding answers.

I had never wanted her to see this…but then again, she wasn’t who I thought she was.

She’d likely seen worse.

“Start from the beginning,” I said, tossing a blood-soaked rag into the bucket. My voice was hoarse, almost unfamiliar to my own ears. “Tell me everything.”

Abby didn’t look up from where she was crouched by the baseboard, her hands methodically working a sponge over the wood. She took a deep breath before beginning, her words punctuated by the rhythmic squeeze of the sponge.

“Okay, Nathan,” she started, with a resignation that made it clear this was the moment of truth. “It’s a long story, but you deserve to know.”

“I always wanted to be law enforcement.” Her voice held a tinge of pride, even now. “Grew up in it, really. My dad was a cop, my mom worked dispatch. I was a tough kid, got into fights, but it was always about defending the little guy. Justice, you know?” She paused, glancing up at me briefly, eyes searching for judgment or understanding—I couldn’t tell which.

“Got my degree in criminal justice,” she continued, dipping the sponge back into the bucket. “I was top of my class, and then…Quantico.”

“Quantico,” I echoed, the word tasting foreign on my tongue. FBI training ground—the place where they made agents. It explained her composure, the way she handled herself.

How had I missed it?

I was in love, that was how.

And I was a fucking idiot.

“And the art history degree?” I asked, feeling suddenly unsteady. “Was that all a lie?”

She met my gaze squarely, the sponge stilled in her hand. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice soft yet unwavering. “Everything about my past that I told you was fabricated. A cover story.”

“Jesus, Abby…” I let out a heavy sigh, the weight of her deception heavy in my chest. All this time, I thought I’d been sharing my world with her, but she’d been a ghost—a pretty illusion meant to disarm me.

“Does it change things?” There was an edge of vulnerability in her question, a crack in her agent’s facade.

“Change things?” I laughed bitterly. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”