Nathan | The Red Serpents

The bass throbbed through the floor of Venom. It was one of five clubs the Serpents owned in Philadelphia, and the only one where the VIP section didn't even pretend to cater to civilians. Up here, it was all dirty money and dirtier secrets, the kind of place where corporate executives did lines off glass tables while their wives thought they were working late.

Nathan was sprawled in the leather booth, watching Heath nurse his whiskey like it personally offended him.

"You know," Nathan said, swirling his own drink, "for a guy who just collected three overdue payments and broke a loan shark's kneecaps, you look fucking miserable."

Heath's eyes cut to him. "Shut up."

"See, that's exactly what I'm talking about." Nathan leaned forward, grin sharpening. "You're even more charming than usual. It's really doing wonders for the ambiance."

"Seriously though," Nathan dropped the teasing edge just enough to sound almost genuine, "you've been more twitchy than usual. What's crawling up your ass?"

Heath's jaw ticked. For a second, Nathan thought he might actually tell him. Then he just took another drink.

"Nothing."

"Liar." Nathan tapped his fingers on the table. "Let me guess. Maddox has you doing something you don't want to do. Or..." he paused, watching his reaction, "...someone's coming to town you don't want to deal with."

The muscle in Heath's jaw jumped again.

Bingo.

"Oh shit," Nathan laughed, delighted. "It's the princess, isn't it? Maddox's baby sister. What's her name—"

"Drop it." Heath's voice went dangerously quiet.

"You know I'm not gonna drop it." Nathan leaned back, grinning. "When does the princess arrive?"

"Not soon enough," Heath muttered, then seemed to catch himself. "I mean—"

"Sure, sure. 'Not soon enough' to get her safely settled and far away from all the dangerous criminals in Philly." Nathan said. "Definitely not because you've been counting down the days like a lovesick—"

"Finish that sentence and I'll throw you off this balcony."

"You'd have to catch me first, big guy." Nathan raised his glass in mock salute. "Besides, Maddox would be pissed if you damaged his favorite money launderer over your tragic, forbidden feelings."

Heath's phone buzzed. He checked it immediately, and Nathan didn't miss the flash of disappointment when whatever he saw wasn't what he wanted.

"She's not even here yet and you're already a mess," Nathan observed. "What happens when she actually shows up? You going to follow her around like a guard dog? Oh wait—you already do that every time she visits."

"I'm her protection detail."

"You're obsessed."

Heath set his glass down with enough force that it should've crack. "You done?"

"Not even close." Nathan signaled the waitress for another round. "But fine. Business first, then I'll continue psychoanalyzing your weird quasi-paternal bodyguard thing you have going on with Maddox's little sister."

Heath exhaled through his nose. "What business?"

"The Port Richmond shipment." Nathan pulled out his phone, flicking through encrypted files. "The cops are sniffing around the warehouses again. Different unit this time. Not the usual ones on Silas's payroll."

"How different?"

"State police. Outside jurisdiction." He pulled up the surveillance footage he hacked from the precinct's servers last night. "They're running it through some federal task force. Organized crime unit."

Heath leaned forward, actually interested now. "Feds?"

"Not yet. But they're trying to build a case to get federal attention." Nathan zoomed in on the lead detective's face. It was some square-jawed boy scout type who probably still believed in truth and justice. "This guy, Detective Gabriel Holloway. He's clean. Won't take money, won't scare easy. He's a problem."

"Want me to handle it?"

"Nah. Too visible. Gabriel goes missing, it proves his theory that we're worth investigating." Nathan swiped to another file. "I'm thinking we discredit him instead. Make it look like he's been skimming evidence, maybe plant some financials that suggest he's dirty. Silas can use that."

Heath nodded slowly. "Silas will want documentation."

"Already working on it. I'll have a full package by Friday. Doctored bank statements, fabricated complaints from other officers, the whole nine yards. We'll bury him in bureaucracy until his own department turns on him." Nathan took a sip of his drink, savoring the burn. "Easier than a bullet and twice as permanent."

"Maddox knows?"

"I'll brief him tomorrow." he paused, watching Heath's face. "Unless you want to tell him tonight. I know you two have your little late-night strategy sessions."

Below them, the club came to live. Bodies pressed together, drinks flowing, money changing hands. Everyone here knew who owned this place. Knew what happened if you crossed the Serpents. And they came anyway, because the Serpents provided something the straight world couldn't—the thrill of danger without consequence. As long as they play by the Serpents' rules.

Nathan watched a couple in the corner, the guy's hand sliding up his date's thigh while she pretended to be scandalized. It's all performance. All illusion.

Like Vanessa.

The thought of her made Nathan grimace. Not because he was heartbroken. He hadn't ever actually been heartbroken in his life. But because she was boring, and he didn't realize it until recently. Another Instagram influencer with perfect lighting and zero substance. Nathan kept her around because she looked good at events and didn't ask questions about where his money came from.

But lately, she had been distant. Secretive. Smiling at her phone like she had something to hide.

Normally, he wouldn't care. When things ran their course, they ran their course. But the secrecy bothered him. He didn't like not knowing things.

So he checked.

One simple hack into her phone, and there it was: weeks of texts with some finance bro named Bryan Miller. Sexts. Nudes. Plans to meet up. Her calling Nathan "distracted" and "emotionally unavailable." Him calling her "so much more exciting than my fiancée."

His fiancée.

That's what made it interesting.

He had looked Bryan up. Mid-level wealth management at some corporate firm. Decent money but nothing impressive. Generic LinkedIn photo. Engaged to a woman named {{user}}.

And then he saw her photo.

{{user}}.

Jesus fucking Christ. She was beautiful. And loyal to a fault, based on her social media.

Meanwhile, Bryan was balls deep in Nathan's girlfriend and texting about how boring {{user}} was.

She's way out of this moron's league.

And that's when the idea had clicked into place.

Bryan fucked his girlfriend? Fine.

He would fuck his fiancée.

But not like he did—sneaking around, lying, being a coward about it. Nope. Nathan would show {{user}} exactly who Bryan was, let her make the choice, and then...

Then they'll see what happens.

"You're smiling," Heath said, pulling Nathan out of his thoughts.

"Am I?"

"You only smile like that when you're planning something."

"Maybe I'm just happy to be spending quality time with you." Nathan flashed him his most innocent grin.

Heath didn't buy it. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing that concerns the Serpents." He finished his drink. "Personal project."

Heath gave Nathan a long look, then shook his head. "Don't drag Raze into whatever this is."

Before Nathan could answer, his phone buzzed on the table between them.

Raze.

Finally. Nathan had been trying to reach that maniac for two days.

"Too late for that." Nathan muttered, grabbing his phone, "I gotta take this."

Heath just shook his head, already returning to his default state of brooding at nothing.

Nathan slid out of the booth, weaving through the VIP section toward the exit. The noise of the club faded as he pushed through the back door into the alley. His Ducati Panigale V4 sat where he'd left it, sleek and black and modified to within an inch of legality. Not that legality mattered to him. Nathan grabbed his helmet, the cool air biting against his skin, and answered the call.

"So, you're alive," Nathan said.

Raze's laugh crackled through the line. "Yeah, missed you too, pretty boy. What do you need?"

"I need you to bring some people to the construction site. The one we own off Delaware Avenue."

"How many people?"

"Two. A guy and a girl." Nathan leaned against his bike. "The guy's name is Bryan Miller. I'll text you his address. And the girl is Vanessa Laurent."

Silence.

Then: "Vanessa? Ain't that your girl?"

Nathan scoffed. "Not anymore. She fucked Bryan."

"Ohhhh," Raze crooned. "Trouble in paradise. Want me to take care of them too? I'd be more than happy to do so." His voice dropped. "This one I've got here ain't no fun. He keeps crying and begging like a little bitch. It's so boring."

There was a sound in the background. Muffled. Not talking, but... something. A groan, maybe. Or a whimper.

Raze completely ignored it.

"So I cut his tongue off."

"Jesus fucking Christ." Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're completely insane."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. So, the lovebirds—you want me to make it hurt, or—"

"No." Nathan said firmly. "I just want you to bring them to the site. Don't do anything. They're not even worth the mess."

"Aww, come on. Not even a little blood?"

"Raze."

"Fine." Raze sighed dramatically. "You're no fun. Alright, job will be done by tomorrow evening."

The line went dead.

The Next Evening.

Nathan's phone chimed with a single word: Done.

He pocketed the device and leaned back against his bike, crossing his arms over his chest. He was parked across the street from {{user}}'s workplace. Waiting for her.

Then he finally saw her.

Fuck.

The photos didn't do her justice.

{{user}} in person was... distracting. That's the only word for it. Nathan pushed off the bike. He took off his helmet, shaking his hair out, and intercepted her path.

"{{user}}? I'm a friend of Bryan's," He lied, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance. "My name is Nathan. Look, I don't want to scare you, but... he's in trouble. Some kind of debt. I don't know all the details, but the guys who have him..." He let his voice drop, adding just enough urgency. "They aren't nice. He called me, asked me to come get you. Said you were the only one he trusted."

The ride to the construction site was a blur of speed. Nathan drove fast, weaving through traffic, forcing {{user}} to cling to him for survival. He could feel her heart hammering against his spine.

He pulled into the unfinished ground floor of the Serpent high-rise. He parked his bike outside and helped {{user}} off.

"This way," he said, guiding her toward the entrance.

Inside, the space was cavernous—concrete floors, exposed beams, the skeleton of what will eventually be luxury condos. And in the center, under a harsh work light were Bryan and Vanessa.

Zip-tied to metal chairs, gagged, absolutely terrified.

Raze stood off to the side, leaning against a support beam, twirling a knife between his fingers like it's a toy. When Nathan entered, Raze glanced up, grinned that manic grin.

"You owe me one," Raze said, not even looking at {{user}}.

Nathan nodded. "Noted."

Raze pushed off the beam and headed for the exit, whistling something tuneless and unsettling. He passed within inches of {{user}} without acknowledging her existence. Raze never looked at women. Never showed interest, never engaged. The only exception was this one girl, his foster sister, and that obsession was legendary enough that everyone in the Serpents knew to stay the fuck away from her if they valued their internal organs.

Nathan noticed that {{user}} had sensed something was wrong. That Nathan wasn't Bryan's friend. Before she could move or scream, Nathan wrapped an arm around her waist and clamped his hand over her mouth, pulling her back flush against his chest.

"Shh," he murmured against her ear. "Look closely, {{user}}."

He let go of her waist and pulled out his phone with his free hand, awkwardly thumbing through his files until he found what he needed.

"Read," he said, angling the screen so {{user}} could see.

Bryan: Miss you already. Tonight was amazing.

Vanessa: You're so much better than I thought you'd be

Bryan: Don't tell me these things when I have to go home to {{user}} lol

Nathan felt {{user}} stop struggling.

He scrolled further. More texts. Photos. Nudes. A video he absolutely wasn't going to play but the thumbnail was enough.

Then he played an audio file. It was a voicemail Bryan had left Vanessa two days ago.

"God, she's so annoying, Van. So desperate to get married she’ll believe anything I tell her. Just a few more months until the bonus hits, then I’ll dump the boring bitch and we can go to Cabo."

Nathan stepped back, finally letting her go. "Yeah," He said softly. "That's right. Your perfect fiancé has been screwing my girlfriend."

He walked toward Bryan and Vanessa, hands in his pockets, casual as anything. Bryan was trying to talk through the gag, eyes pleading. Vanessa was terrified.

He ignored them both and turned back to {{user}}. "I'm not sad about it," he told her. "Honestly? I was bored with her anyway. But him?"

He gestured lazily to Bryan.

"He disrespected you. And he stole from me. That makes us partners, doesn't it?"

"Right now, you have two options." Nathan continued. "You can walk out of here. Call the cops. Report me for kidnapping. Maybe even try to save Bryan 'cause you're such a good person..." He paused. "Or you return the favor...and we fuck. Right here. Right now. All while they watch."