Page 47 of Kingpin's Secret Baby

Piers

The smell of gas thickens in the air, curling at the back of my throat, acrid and sharp. The whole house is primed to go up in flames, and the only thing left to do is strike the match.

The night is pitch black, perfect for what we're about to do. My heart pounds against my ribs as I crouch by the first pile of logs, lighter in hand. Fantasia stands by the back door, her face ghostly in the dim light filtering through the trees. I can feel the tension radiating off her. She's been too quiet since our conversation earlier, but she hasn’t said a word against the plan. Still, something about her silence unsettles me.

I take one last glance around the darkened cabin, the lighter cool in my grip. “Last chance to tell me this is a terrible idea, love.”

“Would you listen if I did?” There's something off in her voice, but I don't have time to analyze it.

“Probably not.” I flick the lighter.

If all goes well, we’ll be long gone before this place turns into a fiery grave. If it doesn’t-

Well. There’s no point thinking about that.

“Ready?” I whisper.

She nods once, sharp and decisive. When I flick the lighter again, the tiny flame flickers wildly, a fragile thing, but when it falls onto the fuel-soaked wood, the fire erupts to life and the first pile catches immediately, flames licking up the curtains.

I move quickly through the house, lighting each pile in succession, watching the fire spread with ruthless efficiency. The heat builds rapidly, smoke already beginning to curl toward the ceiling.

This is the moment that matters most. Get it wrong, and we're dead before we make it ten feet. The fuse I've created- a trail of lighter fluid-soaked logs- leads from the basement door to where I stand. One spark, and it'll carry the flame straight to where the gas has been collecting.

Shouts erupt outside. They've spotted the flames.

“Piers!” Fantasia's voice cracks with urgency. “They're coming!”

“Right behind you!” I sprint toward her as the heat presses against my back, scorching and relentless. The fire spreads fast as it roars behind us, consuming everything in its path. Through the windows, I see figures moving in the darkness, their attention drawn to the inferno we've created.

“Now!” I grab Fantasia's hand and we burst through the back door. The cold mountain air hits us like a physical force after the growing heat inside. The woods are still, the air holding its breath, as if nature itself is waiting for the moment everything detonates. We sprint into the darkness, toward the treeline, counting on the confusion to cover our escape.

We move as silently as possible. The Crowes won’t stay distracted for long. Some of them will come after us. Some might already be in the trees, waiting.

“There!” A shout goes up. “Take them down!”

Fuck! Someone's spotted us. Hopefully they’ll be too scattered, too focused on the burning cabin to organize quickly. We dodge between the trees, our feet finding purchase on the uneven ground more by instinct than sight.

“Keep moving,” I urge Fantasia. “Don't stop no matter what.”

Just a little farther.

Then—

BOOM.

The explosion rips through the air, a white-hot shockwave rolling outward. The deafening force lifts me off my feet and slams into my back. The earth itself seems to quake beneath me as a second explosion follows the first- probably the propane tank in the kitchen.

The world becomes fire and noise. Trees crack and splinter. My ears are ringing so loud I can't hear my own breath, can't hear the sounds of pursuit- but I know they're coming. My vision blurs, but I force myself up. Fantasia lies a few feet away, already pushing herself to her knees.

“I'm fine,” she says before I can ask.

The trees blur past, shadows twisting in the firelight. Voices rise above the crackle of flames, organizing, pursuing.

Gunfire cracks behind us.

Fuck. They recovered faster than I hoped.

I shove Fantasia down as a bullet zips past. “Stay low!”

---