“Hey, are you done in there?” Someone knocked hard on the bathroom door.
I flushed and unlocked the stall, nodding to a woman in a wheelchair as I mumbled an apology. At the sink, I washed up and checked my disguise in the mirror. Then I peeked outside—the man from before was gone, thank God. I slipped out quickly, found my platform, and saw that my bus was already boarding. My ticket felt like a lifeline as I gripped it tightly in my fist.
Climbing aboard, I picked a seat halfway back, right next to the emergency exit. My backpack was pressed tight to my chest. Inside it, I carried only what mattered—cash, documents, Valery’s instructions, my Glock in case I had to use it, and every shred of courage I had left. Escape was the only thing that mattered now.
People filtered in one by one while the driver lingered outside, deep in conversation with someone. I focused on the window, willing my breath to slow, but my nerves crackled to life when a group of men entered the station, scanning. My blood ran cold. One of them worked for Konflict—I’d know his face anywhere.
I pulled my cap lower, closed my body in on itself, and prayed they would overlook me. They swept through the terminal, checking every bus, every bench. One by one, they boarded the buses parked nearby, inspecting each passenger and searching for anything out of place. My skin crawled at the thought of being discovered. In this city, transportation belonged to the Hollister’s, and Crowhurst had eyes everywhere. Of course Konflict would be on my trail already. Nothing here was out of reach for the Big Six. They could lock down the entire city if they wanted to. I pressed myself tighter into the seat, gripped my bag, and begged in silence for the engine to kick in before anyone found me.
Finally, the driver called out for final boarding then climbed in and settled into his seat. The bus doors hissed shut. My grip on my backpack tightened as the engine roared to life, and relief hit me so hard I nearly sagged in my seat. We pulled out of the station, the city lights slipping away behind us.
“Oh God, thank you,” I whispered, relief flooding through me.
But even then, I didn’t let myself relax. My nerves stayed tight as we rolled through the streets, past familiar corners and out toward the highway. Only after we’d been driving for hours, the city far behind, did I feel my muscles begin to unclench. I watched the sky lighten, the landscape shift, and finally let myself believe I might actually be getting away.
Fatigue crept in and pulled my eyelids down. I let the memories roll as I drifted off. Not long ago, I’d been in Knox’s arms, lost in his warmth. Letting him go nearly broke me. I’d locked myself in the bathroom just so I wouldn’t beg him to stay. When he left, I went straight to the Korven estate and shut off my phone so I wouldn’t call Valery for updates, no matter how badly I wanted to.
Instead, I called a tattoo artist in the middle of the night. I needed to mark my skin with the only thing I wanted to carry to my grave—a crown of flowers with a K in the center, inked onto my shoulder.
Back then, I still expected to die by my husband’s hand. That changed when the dizziness and nausea hit. I’d never felt it before, but somehow, I suspected what it could mean. So I asked a maid to buy what I needed and confirmed it for myself. Once there was no doubt left, everything shifted. Mama Kate’s words finally made perfect sense. For the first time, I had a reason to fight. That’s when I decided to sign the divorce papers and left a note for Konflict, hoping he’d let me go.
Deep down, I knew better. Konflict wouldn’t let me vanish. He’d chase me anywhere. My only hope was to get as far as Icould before he caught up, because if he found me, it would be over. For me.For both of us.
The scenery outside blurred and the hours dragged by slowly. We stopped in city after city—Kamloops, Revelstoke, Banff. Every stop gave me a chance to stretch, eat, and check if anyone was following. After so many hours on the road, my body ached from trying to sleep on a bus seat. My nerves were still wound tight.
“You should fix your pillow,” a voice said beside me.
I jerked and turned my head, finding a woman in her forties settled next to me. She was blonde, with short hair tucked behind her ears, warm blue eyes, and pale hands folded in her lap. If I remembered right, she boarded in Kamloops. I kept my posture closed, careful not to give her any invitation to chat, but the friendly way she looked at me made it hard not to respond.
“Sorry?”
“Your pillow. You need to place it better if you’re going to sleep. And change positions, or your back will be a mess by the end of this ride.”
“Oh… it’s fine, really,” I answered, trying to ease her worry and keep her at arm’s length.
She gave me a broad smile, one of those bright, stubborn ones. I sighed, adjusted the pillow just enough to satisfy her.
“Want some?” she asked, fishing a small box from her bag. “Homemade beef jerky. Alberta specialty. My kids can’t get enough.”
“No, thank you.”
She laughed. “Come on, just try a bit. Do me a favor.”
I forced a smile and took a piece, chewing through the salty, spicy taste. I nodded politely, but she took it as encouragement and kept talking.
“It’s good, isn’t it? My father used to make it when I was a kid. Every summer, we’d head to the ranch, he’d smoke themeat behind the barn, and I’d watch, hands sticky with spices. My brothers and sisters and I would run wild, hiding between bales of hay and getting in trouble for knocking things over. One time my brother tipped over the smoker and my father yelled all morning. But I laughed because we knew it would all work out. I don’t make it anymore, but that taste stays with you. Do you like jerky? What’s your name by the way? I’m Susan.”
“Uh… Venus. And this is my first time trying beef jerky.”
I didn’t want to give my real name to a stranger, no matter how friendly she seemed—not when I was on the run. Venus was just a nickname, one only a few people from my childhood would remember. It felt safer to keep the rest to myself. Even so, a shiver ran through me as I remembered the way Knox used to whisper that name, his voice deep and rough when he was buried inside my pussy. God, I missed him. I wondered where he was, if he’d managed to get out of Emberwick and find a way to escape. If I survived this, I hoped someday our paths would cross again.
“Ah, I see,” Susan said, cutting through my thoughts. “I can’t live without it. Grew up on the stuff. It’s almost a family tradition. Speaking of, I’m on my way to Lloydminster to see family. It’s not far from Edmonton. We gather there every summer. It’s a mess, but a good mess. Barbecues, fishing, hiking, kids everywhere, chaos and laughter. Do you have kids?”
“Uh… no,” I said, holding my stomach.
Not long ago, the idea of not having children hadn’t mattered. Now, I wanted to be a mother. I wanted to give a child every bit of love I’d never had; to share all the things I missed with my own mother.
“Oh… It’s fine. You’ll have kids one day. You look so young. It’s never too late, you know? Kids bring so much happiness.” Susan’s voice was full of warmth.
