Hundreds of elite guests watched Sabrina reach toward her gown for a small syringe.

"Hold on!" Ethan barked, slamming his foot on the accelerator. The engine of the custom SUV roared, sending the heavy vehicle surging down the wet highway at eighty miles per hour.

Behind them, the two black SUVs surged forward in tandem. The lead vehicle rammed into the rear bumper of Ethan’s car with a deafening metallic CRUNCH.

Lily woke up with a sharp cry, grabbing Grace’s coat. "Grace! What’s happening?!"

"Stay down on the floor, sweetheart!" Grace commanded, shoving a seat cushion over the girl.

The SUV on their left side swerved close, grinding its reinforced bumper against Ethan’s driver door. Sparks flew into the night air like fireworks. The tinted passenger window slid down, and a masked gunman leveled a silenced submachine gun directly at Ethan’s head.

"Duck!" Grace roared.

She reached forward from the back seat, grabbed the steering wheel, and yanked it hard to the right. Ethan dropped into the center console as a hail of bullets shattered the driver's side window, embedding themselves in the dashboard.

Grace didn't hesitate. She unbuckled her seatbelt, climbed into the front passenger seat, and unclipped a emergency flare gun stored in the glove compartment.

"Ethan, keep the wheel straight for three seconds!" she yelled.

"What are you doing?!"

Grace rolled down the passenger window, unheeding the freezing wind and rain. She leaned half her body out into the storm. The enemy driver on the left raised his weapon again, but Grace fired the flare gun point-blank into the driver’s side windshield.

THWACK!

The blinding red phosphorus flare exploded inside the cabin of the enemy SUV, instantly blinding the driver and filling the vehicle with thick, white smoke. The driver panicked, swerving wildly to the left. The heavy armored truck flipped over the median barrier, rolling four times before exploding into a fireball on the opposite lane.

One down. One to go.

The second enemy SUV slammed into their right rear panel, trying to spin them into a ditch.

"Ethan! Shift to low gear and hit the brakes on my mark!" Grace commanded, her eyes locked on the front bumper of the pursuing car.

"Now?!"

"NOW!"

Ethan slammed the brake pedal. The Caldwell SUV decelerated violently. The second enemy car, unprepared for the maneuver, overshot them, shooting past their front bumper.

Grace reached out, grabbed Ethan’s steering wheel again, and rammed their heavy front grill straight into the rear quarter-panel of the enemy car—performing a perfect tactical PIT maneuver.

The enemy SUV lost traction on the wet asphalt, spun sideways out of control, and crashed into a concrete highway pillar at seventy miles per hour.

Silence returned to the highway, broken only by the sound of falling rain and the idling engine of Ethan’s battered truck.