My mother humiliated my wife on our son’s first birthday, forcing her to serve everyone while caring for our sick baby.

The sedan swerved violently as the SUV rammed us a second time, the sickening crunch of metal echoing through the cabin. Julian fought the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, expertly keeping us from spinning out into the concrete median.

"They're trying to run us off the road!" Amy shouted over the roar of the engine.

"They want us alive for the ledger, but they don't care if we're bleeding!" I yelled back. I drew my weapon from my holster, rolling down the passenger side window. The freezing wind whipped through the car, biting my face.

"David, don't shoot! You'll draw the cops!" Julian warned.

"If we don't stop them, we won't live to see the cops!" I countered.

I leaned out the window, the icy air stinging my eyes, and aimed squarely at the front passenger-side tire of the pursuing SUV. I squeezed the trigger three times in rapid succession. The muzzle flashes illuminated the dark highway.

The third bullet found its mark. The SUV's tire exploded with a loud bang, sending shreds of rubber flying into the air. The massive vehicle violently swerved to the right, losing control, and slammed aggressively into the steel guardrail in a shower of brilliant orange sparks.

Julian didn't slow down. He took the next exit at seventy miles an hour, tires screeching, and plunged us into the labyrinth of a deserted industrial park.

We drove for another ten miles before pulling into an abandoned, crumbling parking garage. The silence that followed the roaring engine was deafening.

Amy was shaking, holding a crying Frederick tightly against her chest.

"We lost them," Julian breathed, resting his forehead against the steering wheel.

"No, we didn't," I said, a cold realization dawning on me. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out of the car. I walked to the rear bumper, running my hand along the underside of the chassis near the wheel well.

My fingers brushed against a small, magnetized plastic box.

I pulled it loose. A tiny red light blinked mockingly in the darkness. A military-grade GPS tracker.

"They knew exactly where we were going before we even left the driveway," I said, holding the device up for Julian to see.

Julian stepped out of the car, his face pale in the moonlight. "Only three people knew I had that car stationed at my apartment. Me, you... and Evelyn."