Shelby

“What do we do, Prez?” Karma asks, his gun at the ready.

“Let me fucking think!” Judge snaps, running forward and snatching the binoculars from Hashtag’s hands. “Fuck!”

He watches for a few more moments, his jaw clenched tight. “Okay, he’s gone back inside. Shelby, you get your ass back in the van. The rest of you, we’re going to move in. We don’t know for sure if that motherfucker is onto us or not. He could just be paranoid.”

“There are no windows on the south side of the house, which means we go in low and fast. We reach the building and we head in, SWAT style—everyone armed, everyone alert. You got it?”

The men around me all nod, or call out their affirmations, ready to go. “Get your guns, boys,” Judge orders. “It’s time to take out a fucking pervert.”

Watching them all strap on holsters and bulletproof vests is surreal. It’s like watching a Hollywood movie, but this time, there’s no guarantee that the good guys will win in the end.

“Get in the van, baby.” Wyatt, approaching from the side, pulls me into his chest. “We’ve got this.”

I look up at him with tears burning in my eyes. “Be careful, handsome.”

He grins. It’s what I used to call him when we were young. “Ah, you do love me,” he teases, placing a kiss on the tip of my nose. “I’m getting our girl back. This family is long overdue for a fucking reunion.”

I watch, my entire body trembling as the group splits up, all of them crouched low to the ground, guns clutched in their hands.

God, if you’re listening, I know you and me aren’t real good friends, but I need a favor. I don’t have much family, and what I do have is in danger right now. Please, can you take care of them?

I stand frozen until I can’t see them anymore. I try using the binoculars, but the area they’re in is dark, and they’re staying low. They’re going to make this work.

A crash rips through the quiet, and I swing the binoculars around to see Kevin’s uncle barging out the door. My heart drops to my feet. There are two young girls in front of him, along with Kevin.

But it’s the girl he has clutched to his chest, a gun jammed into her temple, that causes my knees to go weak. Hayden.

I gaze in horror as he barks something at the three children out front. They’re too far away for me to see their expressions, but from the way they’re moving, I can tell they’re afraid.

Desperate, I look in the direction the Black Hoods had gone, and see a flash of something midway between the van and the house, and then the outline of a few of them. They’ve stayed together. They’re not close enough.

The children climb into the man’s rusted-out van, as he follows behind them with Hayden. When he gets to it, he grabs her by the hair and shoves her inside, causing her to cry out in pain, the sound echoing through the night. And that’s when I make my decision. It’s going to be me who kills Randall. I don’t give a fuck what Judge wants, or what Wyatt says. His blood will be on my hands, and I’m so full of rage right now, I’ll gladly bathe myself in it.

He rounds the vehicle at lightning speed, and before I can blink, the van’s speeding down the long dirt road.

I look back to Wyatt and the others who are still so far away. He’s going to get away. He’s going to make it across the border, and then we’ll never find her.

Without another thought, I run back to the van and jump inside, sliding the side door closed behind me. The key is in the ignition when I jump into the driver’s seat, and I bring the engine to life. I don’t allow the doubts I feel to gather in my head. I can’t wait for Wyatt and the guys. There’s no time.

I don’t try to go incognito, seeing as Randall already knows we’re here.

Even at top speed, it feels like I’m not gaining enough ground. The area around us is open and flat, and so fucking dark. I press the pedal to the floor, willing this jalopy to morph into the Batmobile, or an Indy 500 race car, but it doesn’t happen. My speed is already maxed out.

Approaching the interstate, Randall turns onto it. He’s heading right by me, but on a different road. Fuck that, asshole.

Making a decision that could either save my daughter or end all our lives, I yank the wheel to the right, and without dropping speed, I zoom across the plain between the two roads. The chances of making it across this landscape without hitting a pothole, or obliterating the front end of this vehicle on a rock are slim, but I chance it anyway, knowing that God and I now have an understanding. He’s going to make sure I get my kiddo back. A roar rips from my throat as I move, rivaling the scream of any fun-seeker riding their favorite roller coaster. Except mine is a scream of fear, not thrill.

Finally, I’m on the interstate and spin the wheel, righting the vehicle in the direction of the Mexican border, and now just a few feet behind them. “Come on, asshole,” I mutter, speeding up and getting even closer.

At this time of night, there’s not another soul on the road. My heart gallops in my chest when I see a sign appear that makes it stutter before going even faster: Mexico - 2 miles.

He’s going to make it. He’s going to find a place to cross illegally, and I’m going to lose Hayden forever.

A hole appears in the windshield just above my head, and I stare at it in shock, realizing that Randall’s shooting at me through his window. Another hole appears right beside it, and I scream, ducking low.

A road appears on the left, and Randall cranks the wheel, his van going off the ground on one side before righting itself.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! What am I going to do?

A corner appears up ahead, and when Randall slows to take it, I decide my next move. I don’t slow. I press the pedal down harder, praying to God that he takes care of the children.

Hitting it is like a dream. It all happens both in slow motion and hyperspeed. I don’t have time to react, but I feel every vibration and hear every sound. The front bumper of my van collides with the ass end of Randall’s, and then I’m spinning.

I scream as the walls around me cave in as I roll, losing track of where Randall and the kids should be. By the time I come to a stop, my head is pounding, the glass around me is shattered, and my vision is blurred.

“Hayden,” I croak. “Hayden.”

My last thought before the darkness takes over is: I think I just killed my own daughter.