I succeed in unbuckling my mom’s seatbelt, but my dad’s seems stuck, and we both desperately tug at it, our hands in each other’s way as the limo barrels through a tall, open gate into a warehouse-like building.

“Hurry!” Julian shouts as the limo screeches to a halt. I’m nearly thrown again, but I manage to hang on to the seatbelt strap.

“Now, Nora!” Julian yells, throwing open his door. “Go now!”

The seatbelt buckle finally pops loose, and I grab my dad’s hand as he grabs my mom’s. Pushing open the opposite door, we scramble out of the car, falling onto our hands and knees. My heart pounding, I swivel my head, looking for our plane, and then I see it.

It’s standing near the exit on the opposite side of the hangar, with a dozen other planes between us and it.

“This way!” I jump to my feet, tugging at my dad. “Come on, we have to go!”

We start running. Behind us, there is another screech of brakes, followed by a furious burst of gunfire. Twisting my head, I see Julian and Lucas shooting at an SUV that just barreled into the building behind us. Rosa is running too; she’s right on our heels. My heart hammering, I slow down, everything inside me screaming to turn back, to help Lucas and Julian, but then I recall his words.

Our best chance of survival lies in getting everyone to that plane. Even with my help, my parents are barely functioning as is.

So I suppress the urge to rush back toward the limo and instead yell, “Hurry!” to Rosa, who’s nearly caught up with us. Then the four of us are running again, my dad towing my mom along. He’s deathly pale and his eyes look wild, but he’s putting one foot in front of another, and that’s all I need him to do at the moment. If we get through this, I’ll worry about the impact on my parents’ psyche and agonize about my role in all this.

For now, our only task is survival.

Still, even knowing this, I can’t stop myself from casting frantic glances behind us as we run. Fear for Julian is a giant knot in my stomach. I can’t imagine losing him again. I don’t think I’d survive it.

The first time I glance back, I see that Julian and Lucas took shelter behind the limo and are exchanging fire with men hiding behind the SUV. There are already two corpses on the ground, and a bloody hole in the SUV’s windshield.

Even in my panic, I feel a flash of pride. My husband and his right-hand man know what they’re doing when it comes to taking lives.

The second glance I steal reveals an even better situation. Four enemy corpses and Lucas making his way around the limo to get at the remaining shooter while Julian provides cover fire.

By the third glance, the final shooter is eliminated, and the gunfire stops, the hangar oddly silent after all the racket. I see Lucas and Julian on their feet, apparently uninjured, and tears of joy start rolling down my cheeks.