Page 46 of Kingpin's Secret Baby

Not now. Not this.

I’m carrying Piers Warwick’s child.

Everything freezes. The hope, the warmth, the security of the last few weeks- it all shatters in a single, brutal instant.

I can’t go back to England.

I can’t tell Piers.

I can’t trap him with me like I trapped Achilles, because eventually, he’ll resent me for it. Piers is the kind of man who would never walk away from his child- not out of love, but out of duty. He’d stay because he felt he had to, not because he wanted to. And I can’t be that- an obligation, a responsibility he carries because his conscience won’t let him leave.

I know now that forcing someone to love you always backfires. I learned that the hard way with Achilles. He stayed out of loyalty, out of guilt- but in the end, all that did was twist everything between us, until I was certain he hated me.

I won’t make that mistake again. I can’t survive that again.

“What do you think?” Piers pulls me out of my thoughts.

I suck in a deep breath, schooling my features before I face him. “Okay… I think your escape plan is a good one.”

Piers studies me, his brows knitting together like he doesn’t quite believe me, but after a moment, he nods. “Of course it is.” His smirk is back, easy, charming. Like setting an entire house on fire to escape a siege is nothing more than an exciting adventure rather than a desperate gamble for survival.

Normally, I’d roll my eyes. But right now, I can’t find it in me to be amused.

Because I need to go along with this plan.

Because I need him to believe I’m still in this with him.

Because as soon as we make it out of here- out of the mountains, out of the reach of the Crowes and Ashwoods- Piers can’t know the truth.

I have to leave him before he ever gets the chance to stay.

He deserves that much.

And if I let myself think about how much that realization hurts- if I let myself think about the way my heart fractures at the mere idea of walking away from him- I won’t have the strength to do it.

Not when I’ve just begun to imagine a life with him.

A life I’ll never allow myself to have.

So instead, I meet his eyes and force a smirk I don’t feel. “So,” I say, tilting my head. “How exactly do you plan on setting the cabin on fire without killing us in the process?”

Piers grins. “Oh, love, have some faith. I’d never let you burn.”

I wish I could tell him the same. But I’ve already decided- I’ll be the one to walk into the fire first.

Even if it means leaving him behind.

Piers nods back, satisfied, and stands. “I’ll start gathering what we need. The smoke will draw attention fast, so we’ll have to move quick.”

As the day drags on without any activity outside and the sun begins to set, Piers and I keep the lights off. Our attackers may already know we’re here, but there’s no need to advertise which room we’re in. Instead, I follow Piers through the house with a small, dull flashlight while he prepares to set the whole thing ablaze.

I watch, fascinated and with growing nausea, as he builds little piles out of the precut fireplace logs and tinger near the heavy drapes in the living room, on the rug in the dining room, and all around the bed in the bedroom. Each pile he soaks in lighter fluid, ensuring it’ll catch quickly.

The last pile he builds at the top of the stairs leading into the basement, with the door firmly shut and the crack beneath it stuffed with cloth. Inside, the gas stove has been left on, pumping toxic fumes into the room. That pile will be the last one Piers lights, from the dubious safety of the end of a ‘fuse’ made out of more logs soaked in more lighter fluid.

We’ll be standing at the back door, ready to leap out into the forest when the fuse is set. And, with luck, we’ll be far enough away when it blows itself sky high.

Chapter 23

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