Page 45 of Kingpin's Secret Baby

I want to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but instead, I press my forehead against his chest and breathe him in. Piers shifts slightly, his lips pressing against the top of my head. His fingers trace absent circles on my back, as though he knows I’m lost in thought but refuses to pull me out of it.

If we survive this, if we get out of this damn cabin, maybe I won’t have to be alone. Maybe I won’t have to keep forcing people to stay.

If I let myself believe it, if I let hope bloom here, in his arms, and he leaves anyway- what then? That should be terrifying. Instead, the idea that it could work is the first thing in a long time that isn’t.

Piers shifts, pressing a slow kiss to my temple before murmuring, “we should set the house on fire.”

I blink, pulling back slightly to stare at him. “Excuse me?”

His arms tighten around me for a second before he pulls back, eyes sharp and calculating now. He’s already moving on to the next step, already formulating a plan while I’m still drowning in the moment we just shared.

“It’s the best chance we have.” He sits up, running a hand through his hair. “We wait until nightfall, set the place ablaze, and use the chaos to escape. If we can get through the forest and make it down the mountain, we can make it to the city. Once we’re at the airport, we get back to Wesley Hall. I can keep you safe there.”

I stare at him. He says it so easily.I can keep you safe.As if it’s that simple. As if we aren’t being hunted by men who won’t stop until they’ve buried us both.

As if I could ever be safe.

He watches me, waiting for me to agree, and for a second, I almost do.

But then my chest tightens, and my stomach flips, a wave of nausea rolling through me so suddenly it leaves me dizzy. I press a hand to my mouth, heart pounding.

“I… I need a minute,” I manage, my voice strained. I turn away before Piers can say anything, my legs unsteady as I hurry to the bathroom. My vision blurs at the edges, the nausea sharpening with every step.

I reach the bathroom just in time, gripping the edge of the sink as my stomach twists violently. I lean over the toilet, my body revolting in sharp, unrelenting waves. My fingers clutch the cold porcelain, knuckles turning white as I fight to stay upright.

When the worst of it passes, I slump back against the wall, breathing ragged. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to steady myself, but panic claws at my throat.

I press a trembling hand to my stomach, my thoughts spiraling.

Piers’ voice drifts down the hall, his footsteps growing closer. My heart jumps, fear and guilt twisting together. I push myself up on shaky legs, leaning over the sink to splash cold water on my face.

I can’t let him see me like this.

I take a deep breath, forcing my expression into something resembling calm before opening the door. Piers stands just outside, his brow furrowed with worry.

“You okay?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.

I summon a weak smile, my stomach twisting again. “Yeah… just a little off. Must’ve been something I ate.”

His gaze lingers, heavy with concern, but he nods, stepping back to give me space.

Piers continues, going over the details of his plan, but I can’t hear him anymore. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out everything but the sharp, panicked thoughts racing through my mind.

It’s just stress. Exhaustion. The chaos of everything happening around us.

I swallow against the sickness rising in my throat again. It’s just the alcohol withdrawals, I tell myself. Or maybe stress. Maybe exhaustion.

Except… I’ve been feeling off for a while now. Not just the nausea, but the fatigue, the dizziness, the strange way my body’s been betraying me… it all falls into place.

And when I do, my stomach drops.

My period.

I’m late.

Oh God.

This can’t be happening.

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