Chapter 5 · His Last Order: Run

Chapter 5

I dragged my suitcase along, wandering the streets aimlessly, completely lost and desperate, with no idea where I was supposed to go.

I didn't dare take a cab. I was terrified the driver might get suspicious and start grilling me.

I didn't even dare set foot in any of those upscale hotels.

I looked way too out of place here.

I was afraid someone would mistake me for an illegal immigrant and turn me in to the police.

I had no idea how long I'd been walking, but my legs were about to give out.

Andrew and Rachel started crying and squirming in my arms.

They were hungry.

My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, the pain so sharp I could barely breathe.

When I was about to lose all hope, I spotted a narrow alley.

At the entrance, a flickering neon sign with the word "Hotel" glowed faintly.

The light was dim, and the sign was battered and faded.

To me, though, it was nothing short of paradise.

Holding Andrew and Rachel close, I dragged my suitcase and walked in.

At the front desk, an old man with reading glasses was dozing off.

He woke up with a grumpy look, clearly annoyed I'd disturbed him.

He took one look at me and his brow furrowed.

"Need a room?" he asked, his accent so thick it was almost hard to understand.

I nodded.

I kept my mouth shut and didn't dare say a word in Aldorian, afraid he'd figure out I was an outsider.

He held out his hand. "ID."

My heart skipped a beat.

I didn't have any ID.

My passport had been taken away seven years ago.

I was off the grid now. No papers, no identity, only a ghost in this city.

Seeing me freeze, the old man's eyes grew wary, suspicion flickering across his face. "No ID, no room."

He waved me away, making it clear I wasn't welcome.

I was desperate.

I couldn't let my kids sleep on the streets.

I unzipped my suitcase, pulled out a few crisp dollar bills, and shoved them into his hand.

It was the money William had given me.

Those bills were tainted with blood.

The old man's eyes lit up as he eyed the dollar bills in his hand.

He weighed them in his palm, then looked me over.

The suspicion on his face slowly faded, replaced by a knowing look.

He didn't say another word.

He pulled a key from the drawer and tossed it onto the counter. "Room 201, down at the end of the second floor.

"Cash up front. One month deposit, three months' rent."

I let out a sigh of relief.

I counted out another stack of bills from my suitcase and handed them over.

He took the money, ignored me completely, and went right back to dozing off at the desk.

Dragging my suitcase and carrying the kids, I hauled myself up to the second floor.

The hallway was dim, the air thick with the smell of damp and mold.

But none of that mattered to me.

I finally found Room 201 and fumbled with the key to open the door.

The room was tiny. Only a bed, a table, and a small private bathroom.

The furniture and fixtures were old, but the room was clean.

I double-locked the door and jammed the table tightly against it.

Only then did I finally let my guard down, all strength leaving my body.

I slumped onto the bed, holding Andrew and Rachel close.

They were so worn out from crying, their little faces red and puffy.

I kissed their foreheads, my heart broke for them as tears rolled down my face. "Don't be afraid, I'm right here.

"I won't let anything hurt you anymore."

I opened my suitcase.

The suitcase was packed full of dollar bills, and in the dim light, they almost seemed to glow with a guilty, tainted shine.

On top of the money were a few baby bottles and cans of formula.

William had packed them.

I had no idea when he'd put them in, or what he was thinking when he did.

I couldn't bring myself to dwell on it.

I used the room's kettle to boil some water, then awkwardly made bottles for the kids.

Watching them nurse hungrily, their happy little gurgles filling the room, I felt a rare sense of relief.

For the first time in a long while, a flicker of warmth spread through my heart.

After they finished their bottles, they finally fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Only then did I finally have a chance to really look through the suitcase.

Besides the money and formula, my fingers brushed against something solid at the very bottom.

I pulled out all the cash and piled it up on the bed.

It turned out to be a small box, wrapped tightly in oil paper.

With trembling hands, I peeled away the oil paper, layer by layer.

Inside, there was a small USB drive, a key, and a slip of paper.

The note was written in William's wild, flamboyant handwriting.

Only one line. An address and a name.

David Chapman.

32nd Floor, Overseas Union Bank Tower, Raffles Place, Singapore.

Staring at the address on the note, I was spinning.

What else did William have up his sleeve?

Wasn't he a brute? The kind of guy who settled everything with his fists and a blade.

How could he possibly know a lawyer in Harbor City?

He spelled out the address, clear as day.

My head was spinning.

I glanced at the kids, fast asleep on the bed, then back at the note.

No matter what William's intentions were, this was probably my only chance to survive in this strange city, and maybe, for once, live like a human being.

I had to go.

*****

Early the next morning, I went to the hotel owner and exchanged some money for Harbor City's local currency.

Then I headed to a nearby store and bought a few sets of clean clothes for myself and the kids.

When I walked out of that dim hotel, wearing new clothes and holding Andrew and Rachel, both of them in fresh outfits too, I felt like I was reborn, like life had finally given me a second chance.

Even so, I was still off the grid, a nobody with no papers.

Chapter 5

I dragged my suitcase along, wandering the streets aimlessly, completely lost and desperate, with no idea where I was supposed to go.

I didn't dare take a cab. I was terrified the driver might get suspicious and start grilling me.

I didn't even dare set foot in any of those upscale hotels.

I looked way too out of place here.

I was afraid someone would mistake me for an illegal immigrant and turn me in to the police.

I had no idea how long I'd been walking, but my legs were about to give out.

Andrew and Rachel started crying and squirming in my arms.

They were hungry.

My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, the pain so sharp I could barely breathe.

When I was about to lose all hope, I spotted a narrow alley.

At the entrance, a flickering neon sign with the word "Hotel" glowed faintly.

The light was dim, and the sign was battered and faded.

To me, though, it was nothing short of paradise.

Holding Andrew and Rachel close, I dragged my suitcase and walked in.

At the front desk, an old man with reading glasses was dozing off.

He woke up with a grumpy look, clearly annoyed I'd disturbed him.

He took one look at me and his brow furrowed.

"Need a room?" he asked, his accent so thick it was almost hard to understand.

I nodded.

I kept my mouth shut and didn't dare say a word in Aldorian, afraid he'd figure out I was an outsider.

He held out his hand. "ID."

My heart skipped a beat.

I didn't have any ID.

My passport had been taken away seven years ago.

I was off the grid now. No papers, no identity, only a ghost in this city.

Seeing me freeze, the old man's eyes grew wary, suspicion flickering across his face. "No ID, no room."

He waved me away, making it clear I wasn't welcome.

I was desperate.

I couldn't let my kids sleep on the streets.

I unzipped my suitcase, pulled out a few crisp dollar bills, and shoved them into his hand.

It was the money William had given me.

Those bills were tainted with blood.

The old man's eyes lit up as he eyed the dollar bills in his hand.

He weighed them in his palm, then looked me over.

The suspicion on his face slowly faded, replaced by a knowing look.

He didn't say another word.

He pulled a key from the drawer and tossed it onto the counter. "Room 201, down at the end of the second floor.

"Cash up front. One month deposit, three months' rent."

I let out a sigh of relief.

I counted out another stack of bills from my suitcase and handed them over.

He took the money, ignored me completely, and went right back to dozing off at the desk.

Dragging my suitcase and carrying the kids, I hauled myself up to the second floor.

The hallway was dim, the air thick with the smell of damp and mold.

But none of that mattered to me.

I finally found Room 201 and fumbled with the key to open the door.

The room was tiny. Only a bed, a table, and a small private bathroom.

The furniture and fixtures were old, but the room was clean.

I double-locked the door and jammed the table tightly against it.

Only then did I finally let my guard down, all strength leaving my body.

I slumped onto the bed, holding Andrew and Rachel close.

They were so worn out from crying, their little faces red and puffy.

I kissed their foreheads, my heart broke for them as tears rolled down my face. "Don't be afraid, I'm right here.

"I won't let anything hurt you anymore."

I opened my suitcase.

The suitcase was packed full of dollar bills, and in the dim light, they almost seemed to glow with a guilty, tainted shine.

On top of the money were a few baby bottles and cans of formula.

William had packed them.

I had no idea when he'd put them in, or what he was thinking when he did.

I couldn't bring myself to dwell on it.

I used the room's kettle to boil some water, then awkwardly made bottles for the kids.

Watching them nurse hungrily, their happy little gurgles filling the room, I felt a rare sense of relief.

For the first time in a long while, a flicker of warmth spread through my heart.

After they finished their bottles, they finally fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Only then did I finally have a chance to really look through the suitcase.

Besides the money and formula, my fingers brushed against something solid at the very bottom.

I pulled out all the cash and piled it up on the bed.

It turned out to be a small box, wrapped tightly in oil paper.

With trembling hands, I peeled away the oil paper, layer by layer.

Inside, there was a small USB drive, a key, and a slip of paper.

The note was written in William's wild, flamboyant handwriting.

Only one line. An address and a name.

David Chapman.

32nd Floor, Overseas Union Bank Tower, Raffles Place, Singapore.

Staring at the address on the note, I was spinning.

What else did William have up his sleeve?

Wasn't he a brute? The kind of guy who settled everything with his fists and a blade.

How could he possibly know a lawyer in Harbor City?

He spelled out the address, clear as day.

My head was spinning.

I glanced at the kids, fast asleep on the bed, then back at the note.

No matter what William's intentions were, this was probably my only chance to survive in this strange city, and maybe, for once, live like a human being.

I had to go.

*****

Early the next morning, I went to the hotel owner and exchanged some money for Harbor City's local currency.

Then I headed to a nearby store and bought a few sets of clean clothes for myself and the kids.

When I walked out of that dim hotel, wearing new clothes and holding Andrew and Rachel, both of them in fresh outfits too, I felt like I was reborn, like life had finally given me a second chance.

Even so, I was still off the grid, a nobody with no papers.