Glass shattered as it cracked against the driver’s side window.
An explosion of sound.
An explosion of pain.
Sight dimming.
Agony splintering through my being.
Sight going red.
Bailey. Faith.
Hate and fear and possession. My car rocked to a shuddering stop.
Faith was staring at me.
Wide-eyed and in shock.
And I wanted to go to her. Wrap her up.
But that fucking car was shifting gears again.
I wasn’t going to let this happen. I wasn’t.
I flung open the door and staggered onto the street.
My feet nearly gave out from under me as my consciousness blinked. Squeezing my eyes closed, I fought it, the fade that wanted to suck me into black.
Barely able to see, I rummaged under my seat, adrenaline lighting in my veins as my fingers came into contact with the metal where it was strapped to the underside.
The shock in Faith’s eyes shifted to straight fear when she realized what I was holding. “Jace . . . what are you . . .”
But her words trailed off with the squeal of the tires the lit on the road, the smashed to shit black town car skidding backward in reverse.
With my gun drawn, I stalked around the front of my car.
Squinting, I tried to see through the thick, sticky wetness that blanketed my face.
Sun glinted from above, and the only thing I could make out through the car’s windows were the two massive, silhouetted figures in the front seats.
I lifted my gun higher, striding that direction.
Numb except for the fact I’d fight to the death for these girls.
My finger on the trigger, I started shouting, deranged anger bleeding from my mouth, “Come on, motherfucker. Come at me. You want to hurt an innocent woman? A little girl, you sick fucks? Come at me.”
Their engine revved, and I kept marching that direction.
Two seconds of a silent war.
Me facing down the front of that battle-ram car. Trembling finger on the trigger.
Then the car suddenly whipped around and peeled out, flying down the street. The only trail of it the taillights that bloomed in the distance before it screeched as it careened around a corner, disappearing from sight.
A scream echoed from behind me. Faith’s torment coming from the front seat of my car where she stumbled out onto the road.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” There was another voice coming from the outskirts of my consciousness, a woman running to help me from across the intersection.
I dropped my gun to my side. The shock sliding through me and draining like a pool of tar onto the ground when I turned back around to see the wreckage.
“Oh, God,” the woman whispered, rearing back.
No doubt, she was terrified when she saw my state, the blood that streaked from the wound on my head.
Or maybe she just saw the violence shining in my eyes.
I didn’t care. Didn’t give a fuck what I looked like.
“Call 9-1-1,” I told the woman as I sidestepped her, going right for Faith, who was shaking, barely able to stand as she struggled with the bashed-in door to get to Bailey in the backseat.
By the time I got there, she’d managed to wrench it open, her screams hitting the stifled air. “Bailey . . . oh God, Bailey, my baby, my baby. No. No.”
Bailey’s cries echoed from the backseat.
I looped an arm around Faith’s waist, glancing again over my shoulder, making sure the fuckers were gone.
This time, I sure as hell wasn’t going to be unprepared if they rounded for another attack. I’d already let emotions cloud my mind.
There was nothing. Just the hiss and whirr of the engine, the woman in the intersection on her cell, begging for the ambulance and police to hurry.
And Faith . . .
Faith who wailed against me, this frantic terror bleeding from her lips. “Bailey. Oh, God, Bailey. How could they do this? How could they?”
“Shh,” I whispered, desperate to give her solace. Refuge while every cell in my body screamed for retribution.
To silence the threat.
“I’ve got you, Faith. I’ve got you.”
I’ve got you.
She writhed and cried out, “Why’s this happening to us? Why? Oh, God . . . someone help us. Please.”
Torment rang from her mouth.
Filled the air.
Tortured my heart.
“Shh . . .”
I struggled to get myself together. Focus on that second. What was happening and what needed to be done. I tightened my hold on Faith while I edged her to the side so I could look at her kid.
Her kid.
Her sweet, sweet kid.
And I realized right then that there were no longer any reservations. There was no longer trying to stop myself from falling completely for this child.
Because I felt the snap.
Every hard, bitter idea I’d had of Joseph’s child cracking beneath the crater of devotion that sank into my spirit.
Bailey.
Faith crumbled a bit, letting me hold her, and I angled her to the side as I stuffed the gun under the front passenger seat. I kept her close while I set my knee on the floor in the back so I could get a better look at Bailey.