Blood.
Becca blinked hard.
The world was upside down.
No.
The car was.
She tasted iron.
Her chest burned. Her arm throbbed — warm liquid pouring from a deep gash.
Adrenaline hit.
She snapped fully awake.
“Inez!”
The passenger side was crushed.
Inez hung limp in her seatbelt, blood running down her temple.
“No no no no—”
Becca fumbled for the seatbelt cutter attached to her visor.
The storm howled around the overturnedSUV.
Headlights approached.
Multiple.
Becca kicked the windshield out with everything she had left in her body and crawled through the shattered glass into the snow.
The cold slapped her lungs.
She staggered to Inez’s side, cut her free, dragged her halfway out.
The 9mm lay in the snow near her boot.
She grabbed it.
Then she heard doors opening.
Four men stepped out of the vehicles.
Black suits.
Black gloves.
Professional.
And then—
Another door opened.
Becca’s blood ran cold.
