Chapter 7 - The Crash
I stared down the barrel of my mother's silver revolver, feeling a profound sense of betrayal tearing my heart apart.
The woman who had read me bedtime stories was now threatening to execute me for money.
"You are a monster," I whispered, keeping my hands visible so she wouldn't shoot me in front of the kids.
"I am a pragmatist, Marcus," she replied coldly, never taking her eyes off the dark road.
"With that trust fund, I can save the family estate from foreclosure and ensure David's political campaign is fully funded."
She actually believed that murdering her own son and grandchildren was a valid business strategy.
I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Ethan's terrified eyes staring back at me.
He slowly moved his hand toward the heavy metal seatbelt buckle.
I gave him an almost imperceptible nod, communicating a desperate, silent plan.
The road ahead curved sharply as we approached the steep cliffs bordering the old rock quarry.
"Unbuckle your sister and brace yourselves," I mouthed silently to Ethan in the mirror.
My mother glanced down at the GPS screen for one single second to check our distance.
In that fraction of a moment, I lunged across the center console.
I didn't try to grab the gun, because I knew I wouldn't be fast enough to stop her from pulling the trigger.
Instead, I grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and violently jerked it to the right.
The heavy sedan swerved sharply, the tires squealing against the wet, slippery asphalt.
My mother screamed and fired the gun blindly, the bullet shattering the windshield glass.
The car launched off the side of the road, crashing through a wooden guardrail with a deafening crunch.
We tumbled down the steep, muddy embankment, the world spinning in a terrifying blur of metal and broken glass.
The airbags deployed violently, striking my face and knocking the breath out of my lungs.
The car finally slammed into a massive pine tree at the bottom of the ditch and came to a violent halt.
Smoke billowed from the crumpled hood, and the heavy smell of leaking gasoline filled the cabin.
I pushed the deflated airbag away and immediately checked the back seat.
Ethan had successfully unbuckled them, and though they were bruised and crying, they seemed unbroken.
I looked over at the driver's seat to check on my mother.
She was slumped against the shattered steering wheel, completely unconscious, with a nasty cut on her forehead.
The silver revolver rested on the floorboard near my muddy boots.
I reached down and picked up the weapon, feeling the cold, heavy reality of the steel.
I kicked my jammed door open and helped my children crawl out of the smoking wreckage.
We scrambled up the muddy embankment back toward the dark highway.
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Just as we reached the top, the blazing headlights of a black SUV illuminated our faces.
The vehicle slammed on its brakes, and Vanessa and David stepped out, heavily armed and furious.
