Chapter 33

Jennie

My heart stops beating for a second; then adrenaline explodes in my veins.

Before I have a chance to react, Lisa is already in motion. Unbuckling my seatbelt, she grabs my arm and drags me off the seat onto the limo floor.

"Stay there," she barks, and I watch in shock as she lifts the seat, revealing an enormous stash of weapons.

"What—" my mom gasps, but at that moment, the limo swerves, knocking me against the side of the stuffed leather seat. My parents cry out, clutching desperately at each other, and Lisa grabs the edge of the raised seat to prevent herself from falling.

And then I hear it.

The rat-tat-tat of automatic gunfire.

Somebody is shooting at us.

"Julia!" My dad's face is stark white. "Hold on to me!"

The limo swerves again, causing my mom to let out a frightened scream. Somehow Lisa remains upright, bending over the stash as the limo accelerates even more. From my position on the floor, all I can see through the windows are the tree tops flashing by. We must be flying down this highway at breakneck speed.

Another burst of gunfire, and the trees flash by faster, the greenery blurring in my vision. I can hear the drumming of my pulse; it almost drowns out the squeal of tires in the distance.

"Oh my God!" At my mom's panicked screech, I grab onto a seat and rise up on my knees to look out the back window.

The sight that greets me is like something out of a Fast and Furious movie.

Behind our guards' seven SUVs, there's a whole cavalcade of cars. About a dozen are SUVs and vans, but there are also three Hummers with giant guns mounted on their roofs. Men with assault rifles are hanging out of the cars' windows, exchanging fire with our guards—who are doing the same. As I watch in shock, I see one of the pursuers' cars gain on the last of our SUVs and smash into its side in an apparent effort to force it off the road. Both cars waver off course, sparks flying where their sides scrape together, and I hear another burst of gunfire, followed by the pursuers' car careening off the road and flipping over.

One down, fifteen-plus to go.

The math is crystal-clear in my mind. Fifteen cars versus eight, counting our limo. The odds are not in our favor. My heart beats wildly as the high-speed battle continues, the cars smashing together amidst a hail of bullets.

Boom! The deafening sound vibrates through me, rattling every bone in my body. Stunned, I watch the guards' SUV in the back fly up, exploding in mid-air. Its gas tank must've been hit, I think dazedly, and then I hear Lisa shouting my name.

My ears ringing, I turn and see her thrusting something bulky at me. "Put this on!" she roars before throwing two of the same items at my parents.

Bulletproof vests, I realize in disbelief.

She just handed us bulletproof vests.

The thing is heavy, but I manage to get it on, even with the limo swerving all over the place. I can hear my parents frantically instructing one another, and I turn to see Lisa already wearing her own vest.

She's also holding an AK-47—which she thrusts into my hands before turning to lift a big, unusual-looking weapon out of the stash. I stare at it, puzzled, but then I recognize what it is.

A handheld grenade launcher. Lisa had shown it to me once on the estate.

Shaking off my shock, I climb up on the seat, cradling the assault rifle with unsteady hands. I have to do my part, no matter how terrifying it may be. But before I can roll down the window and start shooting, Lisa pulls me down to the floor again.

"Stay down," she roars at me. "Don't fucking move!"

I nod, trying to control my rapid breathing. The adrenaline sizzling through me both speeds everything up and slows it down, my perception foggy and sharp at the same time. I can hear my mom sobbing and Rosé and Bambam yelling something at the front, and then I see Lisa's face change as she turns toward the front window.

"Fuck!" The expletive bursts out of her throat, terrifying me with its vehemence.

Unable to stay still, I rise up on my knees again . . . and my lungs cease working.

On the road ahead of us, just a few hundred feet away, is a police blockade—and we're barreling toward it at race-car speed.