After an exhausting day and a half on a boat that creaked like it was built in another century, swaying on waves that seemed angry at our very existence, I was finally dropped off at the border of Vale City. Alone. In the dead of night. One hand gripping the handle of a heavy suitcase stuffed with cash, the other cradling a sleeping baby who had only just decided to bless the world with his silence after a marathon of fussing during the entire journey.
We had all agreed to scatter—disappear across the world like spilled marbles. I got first pick, not because of rank or seniority, but because I had him—the baby none of us had meant to steal. Obviously, I chose Velmire. It's the only place I know, the only place I could even pretend to blend in.
The bus rolled to a stop with a low hiss, and I stepped off into the quiet night. It wasn't far from the station to the apartment, but with how drained I was—physically, mentally, emotionally—it felt like a pilgrimage. I hadn't slept once during the trip, thanks to the small, very vocal human now peacefully drooling against my shoulder. Cute little traitor.
Eventually, I reached the building and trudged through the revolving door, my suitcase rolling behind me like a stubborn mule.
"Walter?"
My head snapped up. Timothy.
He stood behind the reception desk, blinking as though he couldn't believe his eyes. His voice cracked with emotion. His face flushed and his eyes grew glossy as if he might cry. He rushed toward me, arms opening for a hug—until he saw the baby. Then his arms froze mid-air, eyes flicking between me and the child like he was solving a riddle in real-time.
I didn't wait for questions. I didn't have the strength for it.
"We'll talk later," I muttered, brushing past him as the elevator doors opened with a ding. They closed behind me with the softest sigh, and I finally allowed myself to exhale.
Home. Almost.
The elevator opened onto my floor, and I shuffled to the apartment. I raised my hand to knock, but the door swung open before I could touch it.
Serena stood there—messy, red-eyed, mascara-streaked, and clearly devastated. Her hair was knotted, clothes wrinkled and stained. It looked like she hadn't slept since I left.
She didn't say a word. She just threw her arms around me, hugging me so tightly the baby squirmed in protest.
"Serena—baby—in hand—too tight," I gasped out.
She pulled back immediately, and just like Timothy, her eyes went to the baby. Then to me. Then to the suitcase. Then back to me again, with the fury of a thousand suns.
"You have a lot of explaining to do," she said in that tone—the one that made lawyers, thieves, and politicians all sweat the same.
5 Hours Later... It was 4 a.m. My eyes were half-lidded, body swaying while I rocked the baby, who finally decided he liked silence now that it was inconvenient. Serena paced the living room, somehow still full of energy, her rant bouncing off the walls like bullets.
"Let me get this straight," she said, arms flailing. "You left the country illegally, robbed a criminal overlord, stole from him—oh, but it gets better—you accidentally kidnapped his child?! Bitch, are you DUMB?! Did your head injury knock something loose?!"
I groaned, letting my head fall back against the couch.
"The baby thing was a mistake, Serena," I mumbled. "And we are returning him. When things calm down. You know… without getting murdered."
"Walter, you're not grasping the gravity of this. That man is dangerous. Lethal. He could come for you. Or me. You could go to jail, or worse—end up in pieces in someone's freezer!"
"Yeah, but… he doesn't know where I live," I said lazily, my voice a foggy cloud. "So we've got time."
I gestured toward the suitcase, too tired to elaborate.
She gave me a wary glance, then crouched down and unzipped it.
Her gasp filled the room.
"Two hundred million Svil," I said flatly. "All cash."
She stared into the suitcase, stunned. For the first time in hours, she was quiet.
"You don't have to work anymore."
"I don't have to get coffee thrown at me every day..." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
I could almost see a smile tug at the corners of her lips—until she caught herself and shut it down with a hard blink.
"Are you sure we'll get the baby back to his family?" she asked, carefully, like she was testing the ground under her feet.
I nodded. "Yes. We would've dropped him off right away, but that's too risky. We're just waiting for the heat to die down. Then we'll leave him safe and sound, no one sees us, no one dies."
She studied me for a long moment, then finally nodded. Some of the tension drained from her shoulders.
"Fine. But how long, on average, is this baby staying with us?"
"A month. Max."
That was the last thing I said before my brain shut down and I passed out on the couch, baby in my arms.
One Week Later "Peekaboo… peekaboo… I see youuu!" I cooed at Nugget, who giggled from the trolley's baby seat with the kind of pure joy that could melt a war criminal's heart.
He was wearing an oversized bunny onesie, the floppy ears bouncing with every laugh. Serena bought it, of course—without checking the size. But honestly, it just made him look more adorable. Ridiculously adorable.
Serena walked ahead, scanning the grocery list.
"Baby milk, check," she said, placing a tin in the cart.
"Don't forget the gummies," I added, grinning.
She gave me a look. "The gummies are for who, exactly?"
"Me. Obviously."
She rolled her eyes and turned back to the list. She happier nowadays, she quit her job 4 days ago, apparently the workplace harassment that was going on at that firm was crazy.
Behind me, Nugget giggled and yanked at my hair. Again.
"No, Nugget, let go—my hair is not edible," I whispered as I gently pried his tiny fists loose. Babies are deceptively strong.
But then… that feeling hit me again.
That prickling weight at the back of my neck.
Like eyes on me.
I spun around.
Nothing. Just the empty aisle. It had been happening for days now. A presence. A chill. Watching, but never visible.
I shook it off. Just nerves. Paranoia. Lack of sleep.
We finished shopping and returned to the apartment, Serena heading up first with the groceries while I unbuckled Nugget from his seat. The underground parking garage was quiet—eerily so.
The elevator ride felt off.
Too slow. Too quiet.
It dinged on my floor, and I stepped out. Everything felt heavier.
I opened the apartment door—darkness. No lights.
Odd.
I flipped the switch.
Nothing.
Figures. Power outage?
I walked in, dropped the keys on the counter, and set Nugget in his high chair.
"Serena? You here?"
No response.
I moved toward the curtains to open them, hoping for a little moonlight—
And stopped.
A presence. A shadow behind me.
I turned.
And looked up.
Chest. Broad. Encased in a tailored black suit.
I followed the body up—slowly—until I reached a face. And eyes. Crystal brown. Clearer than polished amber. Cold, calm, and infinite.
"Hello, my Vanta."
His voice was slow. Deep. Like the rasp of whiskey poured over ice. It didn't shout—it commanded. Every syllable dripped with reverence… and possession.
That name—Vanta—wasn't a pet name.
It was a claim.
A sacred thing. Spoken from love that came from the deepest of trenches.