The subject line read: *Emergency Session Agenda – Executive Leadership Transition.*

My heart sank as I read the words.

She was already moving the pieces.

Beside me, the rain continued to beat against the glass, a relentless, drum-like sound.

We merged onto the highway, the heavy traffic of the evening commute stretching out before us in a sea of red brake lights.

“Nathan,” I said, pointing to the line of cars ahead.

“The highway is blocked.”

He looked at the sea of red lights, his jaw setting into a hard, determined line.

He turned the steering wheel sharply, heading toward the emergency lane.

Behind us, a loud siren began to wail in the distance, its blue and red lights reflecting off the wet asphalt.

“Is that the police?” Lily asked, her voice trembling as she looked out the back window.

“I don’t know,” Nathan said, his eyes scanning the mirrors.

“It might be.”

“But we aren’t stopping.”

“Nathan, you can’t run from the police,” I said, my hand reaching for his arm.

“I’m not running,” he said.

“I’m getting us to that meeting.”