“Don’t let them,” Alexander said.

“Stay in the middle lane.”

“If they try to force you over, hit the horn.”

My hands were wet with sweat on the steering wheel.

I had never been so terrified in my life.

I wasn’t just running from Victoria anymore.

I was running from the entire empire she had built.

“We’re almost at the turnoff,” Alexander said, his voice tense.

“Two more miles.”

The dark sedan suddenly accelerated, pulling up along our left side.

The driver was wearing a dark cap, his face obscured by the rain.

He began to drift into our lane, forcing me toward the right.

“Alexander!” I cried.

“Hold the wheel steady,” he said.

He reached over and put his hand over mine on the steering wheel.

He pressed the horn.

The loud blast echoed through the rain.

The sedan did not move back.

It kept pressing closer, trying to force us onto the shoulder.

“They want us to stop,” Alexander said.

“They don’t want to hurt the boys, they just want to take them.”

“I won’t let them,” I said.

I slammed on the brakes.