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“Mom, what’s happening?” The boy’s voice was high-pitched now, edged with fear.

I whipped my head toward him, heart pounding wildly in my chest. My eyes zeroed in on the fact that his seat belt wasn’t on.

“Put on your seat belt!” I shrieked, my voice cracking under the weight of panic.

“I—Mom, I don’t—”

“Now!” I snapped, my tone sharp and cutting. Tears stung my eyes as I cursed under my breath. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Just—please, Adam. Please put it on.”

His small hands fumbled with the strap, and for a split second, I felt the faintest glimmer of relief. But the feeling was short-lived.

The Jeep in front of me lurched forward, its tires squealing as it swerved to the side. Before I could react, the car behind me surged forward, slamming into my rear bumper with brutal force. My head snapped back, my skull cracking against the headrest.

“Shit!” I screamed, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.

“Mom, what’s happening?” Adam’s voice was trembling now, his green eyes wide with terror.

“I—I don’t know!” I stammered, shifting into reverse in a desperate attempt to move. The tires squealed again, the car jolting backward and slamming into the one behind me with a sickening crunch.

I was pinned.

The Jeep in front reversed into me with terrifying precision, the force sending me jerking forward into the wheel. Blood filled my mouth, sharp and metallic, as I bit down on my tongue.

“Stop! Please stop!” I screamed, my voice cracking as the walls of reality began to blur.

“It’s just a dream,” I whispered under my breath, a mantra that did nothing to slow the panic clawing at my throat. “It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream.”

But it didn’t feel like a dream.

The car behind me slammed into my bumper again, harder this time, the impact rattling through my entire body. The seatbelt dug into my chest, cutting into my skin.

“Mom!” Adam’s voice cracked, trembling with fear.

I looked back at him, tears streaming down my face. He was clutching the seatbelt now, his small hands trembling as his wide green eyes stared back at me—Dominic’s eyes, staring at me in horror.

“Just hold on!” I sobbed, twisting the wheel in a desperate attempt to free us. The Jeep in front inched closer again, its bumper scraping against mine. I could hear the grinding of metal, the screech of tires, the blaring of horns all around us.

I slammed the accelerator, the engine roaring as the car skidded forward again. But it was no use.

The Jeep rammed into me once more, and I let out a guttural scream, raw and primal, the kind that ripped through your throat like fire.

“Adam, hold on!” I cried, my voice breaking as the world blurred around me.

“It’s not real,” I whispered again, the tremble in my voice betraying the fragile mantra I clung to. “It’s just a dream. It has to be.”

But the shattering crunch of metal folding like paper under relentless blows told me otherwise.

The car jolted violently to the side as another impact slammed into us. My chest heaved as I struggled to breathe, every gasp shallow and ragged. Sweat slicked my skin, soaking through my shirt, and my hair clung to my forehead in damp, sticky strands. The steering wheel was slippery under my trembling hands, the world around me an overwhelming cacophony of blaring horns, screeching tires, and my son’s cries.

“It’s a setup,” the thought whispered in the back of my mind, cold and cruel. This wasn’t random. It couldn’t be.

I tried to swerve to the side, the wheel jerking in my grip as I fought to maneuver out of the trap. My pulse hammered in my ears, drowning out every rational thought. The car shuddered as another vehicle rammed into the back, throwing me forward.

“Stop it!” I screamed into the chaos, my voice breaking as my heart slammed against my ribs.

“Mom!” Adam’s voice cracked, rising from soft whimpers to loud, panicked cries.

“Adam, hold on!” I yelled, the words barely audible over the noise. I glanced at him through the rearview mirror, his small hands gripping the seatbelt strap tightly. Tears streaked his face, his green eyes wide with fear.

“Mom, what’s happening?!” His voice broke, the terror in it making my stomach churn.

“Just hold on!” I tried to keep my voice steady, but the quiver betrayed me.

The wheel jerked violently as I swerved again, trying to escape the relentless assault. My arms burned from the effort, muscles straining, but it was useless. Another slam from the rear shoved me forward.

Sweat dripped down my temples, stinging my eyes. My breath came in shallow gasps, each exhale trembling as adrenaline surged through me. Adam’s cries grew louder, piercing, and each one stabbed into me like a blade.

I whipped my head around to look at him, to tell him it would be okay even though I didn’t believe it—

Bang.

The sound was deafening, a sharp crack that cut through the chaos like a razor. My shriek tore through the air as time seemed to slow.  A gunshot. The window next to me had shattered. 

My heart pounded in my ears, each beat a heavy drum, as if the world had gone underwater. The blaring of horns became distant, muffled. The air felt thick, suffocating.

Glass exploded, shards flying in every direction like deadly confetti. Tiny fragments rained against my face, stinging as they nicked my skin. I flinched, throwing up an arm to shield myself, but the sharp, metallic scent of blood reached my nose before I realized what had happened.

My shoulder burned, a deep, searing pain radiating outward. It wasn’t until I looked down that I saw the dark stain spreading across my shirt, soaking through the fabric. Blood. My blood.

“Oh my God,” I choked out, panic flooding my veins. The pain hit me then, a fiery, pulsating agony that stole my breath.

“Adam!” I screamed, my voice raw and ragged.

“Mom, what’s happening?!” His voice was high-pitched, cracking with fear.

“Unbuckle your seatbelt!” I yelled, my words frantic and slurred. “Unbuckle it and duck! Now!”

“I—Mom, I—”

“Do it!” I shouted, my voice breaking. My fingers trembled as I gripped the wheel tighter, my knuckles white.

The car behind slammed into us again, throwing me forward with brutal force. My vision blurred, spots dancing in my eyes as the world seemed to spin.

“Duck, Adam!” I screamed again, my voice hoarse, barely able to hold on to the rising tide of pain and fear.

The Jeep in front braked suddenly, and my car jerked forward, the sound of crunching metal and shattering glass filling the air once more. I gasped, the sharp movement wrenching my injured shoulder, and let out a strangled cry.

“Please,” I whispered under my breath, the words catching in my throat. Tears streamed down my face, warm and salty, mixing with the blood already pooling at my lips. “Please let this be a dream.”

And then, everything stilled.

No impact. No screeching metal. Just the faint echoes of screams in the distance. But it wasn’t relief I felt—it was a new kind of terror. My ears rang, a piercing, relentless sound that drowned out everything else. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat heavy and uneven, like it was fighting to escape my ribs.

Pain radiated from everywhere, sharp and unrelenting. My shoulder throbbed, the fiery burn of the gunshot wound sending shockwaves through my arm and chest. My seatbelt had carved deep into my collarbone, leaving an ache that thudded with every frantic breath I took. My head pulsed where it had slammed against the headrest, a dull, relentless pounding that blurred my vision.

I gasped, my chest wheezing as I struggled to breathe. Each inhale felt like dragging shards of glass through my lungs. Blood trickled from my nose in a steady, rhythmic drip, the warm, sticky droplets sliding down over my lips and chin, landing on my lap with a soft, endless plop.

My left arm was soaked. I didn’t want to look at it, but I couldn’t stop my eyes from drifting down. The blood had seeped through my shirt, the fabric clinging to my skin, dark and wet. It trickled over my fingers as I clutched my shoulder, pooling in the crook of my elbow before dripping onto the console. The coppery smell was thick in the air, making my stomach churn.

“Mom?” Adam’s soft whimper cut through the haze, faint but sharp enough to pull me back.

My head snapped toward him, too fast. The dizziness hit me like a wave, my vision spinning, black spots dancing in the corners of my eyes. My ears roared with the ringing, the sound growing louder, overwhelming. I fought it, fought the nausea and the lightheadedness, and turned fully to face him.

He was curled in the back seat, his small body trembling. Tears streaked his pale cheeks, and his lips quivered as he stared at me with wide, terrified eyes.

“Adam,” I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay, baby. It’s—”

A loud slam against the back of the car made me jump, the sharp sound jolting me like an electric shock.

I twisted back to the front, my movements sluggish and uncoordinated, and I saw him.

A man was stepping out of the car behind us. He was massive—broad shoulders that seemed to stretch the width of the vehicle, thick arms covered in tattoos that looked like jagged scars in the dim light. His face was rough, his jaw square and shadowed by an uneven beard. A deep scar cut across his cheek, and his eyes—cold, hard, and devoid of anything human—locked onto me.

My breath caught in my throat as he started toward the car, his movements slow but deliberate. His boots crunched against the asphalt, every step echoing louder than it should have. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, veins bulging along his forearms.

“No,” I whispered, my voice trembling. My shaking fingers scrambled for the lock, fumbling as I leaned forward. I could barely see through the haze of tears and blood, but I heard the click.

The door locked just as the man reached the window.

He leaned in, his face inches from the glass, and growled. It was a low, guttural sound, more animal than human. His breath fogged the window, and I could see his teeth, gritted in rage.

My hands were trembling so badly they slipped from the wheel. I pressed myself back into the seat, my chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow pants.

“Mom,” Adam whimpered from the back, his voice tiny and scared.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, but my voice shook, and I didn’t believe my own words. My eyes stayed locked on the man as he raised a fist and slammed it against the window. The glass didn’t shatter, but the sound was enough to make me flinch, my heart lurching painfully in my chest.

His lips moved, forming words I couldn’t hear over the ringing in my ears, but I didn’t need to. The rage on his face, the way his fist pounded again and again, said everything.

He wasn’t going to stop.