Page 83 of Kingpin's Secret Baby

I feelanchored.

She trusts me. Without hesitation, without question, she melts into me like she belongs there, like she knows I’ll keep her safe. And as I hold her, something inside me- something I thought was too broken, too hollow- expands. Like my heart, scarred and locked away for so long, just cracked wide open, making room for her in an instant.

For the first time in years, I’m not drifting. I’m not lost in the current of everything I’ve done, everything I’ve lost. Holding her, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breath against me, grounds me in a way I didn’t know I was missing.

I press my lips to her hair, just for a second, and tighten my hold.

But just as we near the door, as I’m about to make it out of this damn house, I hear it.

A voice, low and sandpaper-rough, shreds the silence. “What the fuck?”

I track the sound down the hall- just enough light to silhouette the guard. His body goes rigid when he clocks the body on the floor, then me framed in the doorway. Recognition flashes like a muzzle flare. No hesitation. Radio already at his lips, voice blade-sharp.

“10-99, man down, intruder spotted. Lock it down, now!”

My blood turns icewater.

We’ve been found.

“Shit.” No time to think- just move. My legs ignite, pumping like they haven’t since I was twenty. Roger and Arthur are already a blur ahead, steel glinting in their fists as they carve a path toward the garage. Behind us, boots slam against tile, sluggish but gaining- weapons still clearing holsters, shouts clotting the air.

“Move!” Roger barks, shoving open the garage door.

Arthur grabs my arm and yanks me forward. I clutch the little girl tighter against my chest as we tear through the house and down the hall.

The click of a safety being switched off slices through the air?—

Arthur moves before I even register what’s happening. A sharp shove to my side sends me off balance just as the gunshot cracks through the space.

He jerks beside me, a strangled grunt ripping from his throat as he stumbles forward.

My stomach plummets. That bullet was meant for me.

“Arthur!” I lunge to catch him, my grip slipping against the slick warmth of blood spreading across his shoulder. He grits his teeth, shaking me off.

“Go!” His voice is tight with pain, but he doesn’t stop moving. He clutches his wound, forcing himself forward, and somehow still manages to reach the car first. He wrenches open the driver’s side door with a sharp hiss of breath. “Get in the damn car, Piers!”

I don’t hesitate.

Roger dives into the passenger seat while I slide into the back, as Arthur slams the car into reverse. Tires screech, the stench of burning rubber fills the air, and then we’re spinning, peeling out of the garage and into the night.

Gunfire cracks behind us. Bullets bounce off the trunk.

Roger curses, ducking low. I curl tighter around the little girl, shielding her small body as another round of gunfire pings off the metal. Arthur growls something under his breath, knuckles white on the wheel as he jerks the car onto the road, tires screeching against pavement.

The little girl whimpers against my chest.

I press my lips to her hair, holding her close. “I’ve got you,” I murmur. “You’re safe.”

For the first few minutes, every breath is razor-sharp, every heartbeat a countdown. But as the estate shrinks in the rearview mirror, swallowed by the night, something shifts. The gunfire fades. The headlights chasing us never come.

And the further we get, the more certain I am- we’re going to make it.

And then I think of Fantasia.

She’s waiting.

She’s counting on me.

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