Page 130 of Emerald Vices

As the words leave my mouth, Olaf’s jeep is knocked into a tailspin. He careens off the road, diving nose-first into a ditch.

The black car accelerates.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Misha is shushing the twins, but I can hear his voice hitching. He sees what’s going to happen.

“Hold on!” I scream, just as the car rams into us.

Everyone else is strapped in and buckled, but Remi is flung against the dashboard. He hits hard and falls under the dash, caught in the footwell, whining in pain.

“Nat, they’re coming!” Misha’s panicked words are the last thing I hear before the car rear-ends us for the second time.

Except this time, I lose control of the wheel.

The car swerves off in a sharp left, and we slam into a tree.

My ears ring. My body is heavy and numb. As I give in to the blissful oblivion of darkness, a comforting thought takes hold.

It will all be okay when I wake up.

This is just another nightmare.

“Mom! Mom!”

There’s a poke to my side. My face.

“Mom!”

I’m still dreaming.

“Mom!” someone sobs. “Please wake up. Please.”

A nightmare. This is a nightmare.

Something warm and wet slides down my face. I inhale and cough, my lungs protesting against the smoke.

“MOM!”

It’s like an electric shock straight to the heart. I jolt upright, already reaching for my son. “Misha?”

There’s blood drying on his forehead and tears streaking down his dirty cheeks. Remi is limp in the passenger seat, but my eyes slip down to the single bundle Misha is clutching to his chest.

Not two…

Just one.

“No!” I choke, twisting around in my seat. Pain shoots down my side, but I ignore it and search the backseat.

“I’ve got Sarra,” he says weakly.

“Grigory,” I gasp. “Where’s Grigory?”

But my son’s car seat is empty.

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