shot the tires out, there’s the risk of causing an accident that kills Heather along with everyone else.
“Almost there,” Aaron breathes, and then I see it, the white and blue Bronco shooting out of the woods and hitting the small hump of dirt that marks the end of the access road. The SUV flies into the air and crashes down in front of the two black sedans, cutting off their route and trapping them between the low stone walls that line either side of the main road for small stretches at a time.
They have no place to go but to use the same path Aaron’s Bronco took, down the side road and toward the woods. They reverse and then take off, and we follow. But Aaron’s bought us enough time to swing the Camaro in front of them.
The Eldorado blocks the road from behind.
Trapping them.
Doors open and men in suits appear, armed with assault rifles.
Heather is wrenched out of one of the doors, her arm gripped tightly in the hand of a large, white man that carries the same generic profile as his son, James. The frown on his face is legendary; his temper piqued as he shoves the barrel of a gun right up against the side of Heather’s head, burying the metal in her temple as an involuntary growl slips past my red-painted lips.
“Move these fucking cars out of the way or I’ll blow the little bitch’s head off right here and now.”
“Nah, I don’t think so,” Callum whispers, his voice carrying in the silent tension that stretches through the woods, broken up only by the slight ticking and cooling of the vehicles and the ragged pants of our breathing as we climb out behind the Camaro, using the car as a blockade.
My creepy nightmare boy is somehow perched on the trunk of the car. He moves like a shadow, knocking the gun away from my sister’s head just in time to send Maxwell’s first shot wild. Callum grapples with the man as a scream breaks from my throat.
“Run!” I shout, and Heather’s little body twitches like it’s been plugged into an electrical outlet. She takes off for the woods as gunfire rings out from the direction of the Eldorado and Oscar uses an assault rifle he got from the trunk to take careful, calculated shots at the men emerging from the cars. Their own weapons are raised and ready to use; they don’t hesitate to fire back.
We’re about to have an old-fashioned shoot-out.
My eyes follow Heather as she starts for the trees, but my greatest fears are almost immediately realized when Ophelia grabs her arm. Instead of yanking her back to the car, Ophelia continues into the woods, my sister dragging along behind her.
I almost take off after them, but Victor stops me with a hand clamped onto my upper arm. His eyes meet mine, and I hear the very distinct ring of an order in his next words. My king is telling me what to do, my god, the leader of Havoc who has no problem sharing his throne or his boys with me.
“Do not leave this Camaro unless it’s on fire, do you understand me?” He shakes me once when I don’t answer right away, torn between listening to him and taking off after my sister. It’s dangerous though, to run that bit of green between the cover of the car and the trees. I’m good, but Victor is better; we both know it. He has the greatest chance of getting out of here without being gunned down. “Bernadette.”
“I hear you,” I choke out, even though it kills me, even though it makes me feel like I’m coming apart at the seams. Victor leans down to look into my eyes, searing this order into my brain like a brand. “Do. Not. Leave. For any reason. If things go south, you climb into the driver’s seat and you book it the fuck out of here. Promise me.”
I grind my teeth together, but all I can manage is a nod. Victor shoves his gun into my hand, like he’s damn near positive he won’t need it. Since I already have one, I take the magazine out, slip it into my blazer pocket, and toss Vic’s weapon on the ground by the Camaro’s rear tire—just in case. But at least I’ve got some more ammo on me now.
“Trust me to get your sister back,” Vic tells me, standing back up, his face darkening as he turns toward the