“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 Julian shouting my name.

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

Bulletproof vests, I realize in disbelief.

He 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 Julian already wearing his own vest.

He’s also holding an AK-47—which he 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. Julian 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, Julian pulls me down to the floor again.

“Stay down,” he 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 Rosa and Lucas yelling something at the front, and then I see Julian’s face change as he turns toward the front window.

“Fuck!” The expletive bursts out of his throat, terrifying me with its vehemence.