Page 53 of Kingpin's Secret Baby

I told myself I was doing it for him.

But that was a lie.

I wasn’t just running to protect him. I was running to protect myself.

Because what if it worked?

Nothing in my life had ever worked out. Nothing had ever been safe, or certain, or real. And if I let myself believe this could be different- if I let myself hope- what would happen when it all fell apart?

I left because I was scared. Scared that if I stayed, I’d finally have something to lose.

The bus stops. I don’t even know where I am anymore. People get on and off, but I stay in my seat, staring blankly ahead. I lost track of the stops hours ago, moving through states, through unfamiliar cities, through the haze of exhaustion and nausea that’s been creeping in more and more.

I could keep going.

Keep riding this bus until I disappear completely. Until I stop thinking about what I’ve done.

But I can’t.

Because it’s not just me anymore.

I straighten, pushing back against the fog in my mind. I can feel the exhaustion in my bones, the lingering ache of everything I’ve lost, but I push through it. I have to.

Someone else is relying on me now.

This child, whether I wanted it or not, deserves a chance. Deserves more than a mother too lost in her own pain to think straight.

At the next stop, I force myself to move. To think. To plan.

I hope the bank account Achilles set up for me still works.

I don’t hesitate.

I step off the bus, pulling my hood up against the cold night air. The gas station ATM is empty except for a bored clerk behind the counter. My pulse pounds as I punch in the numbers, bracing for the worst.

The screen blinks. Then, the cash slot whirs to life.

Relief rushes through me as I grab the bills.

I shove the money into my pocket and move on.

And I keep moving.

Bus after bus. Stop after stop.

At every chance I get, I take out more.

I know I’m leaving a trace at every ATM, but by the time I empty the account completely, I have a bag full of cash and no digital footprint to follow.

Eventually, Achilles will notice. He'll freeze the account. But by then, I'll be gone.

Really gone.

No credit cards. No phone. No paper trail.

Just me and this baby and whatever future we can scrape together.

I tell myself it's better this way. That Piers deserves his freedom, his chance at the life he was meant to have. That this child deserves better than being born into our world of violence and vengeance.

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