Page 46 of Overcast

Except, instead of being fearful that I’m going to get hit, it sets off a foggy rage within me with each bullet. The shooter is my only target, everything else around me blends into a colorful blur of nothing.

Shoving the pedal to the floor as soon as we hit the straightaway, I swerve to the left, riding the median line and flick on my brights—because I’m a petty asshole and these dickheads are about to see another tunnel of light altogether in a few minutes.

Hitting the edge of the bumper, I turn my truck to the right, forcing theirs to lose traction. The F-150 moves a tad, but the driver catches it quickly.

Plan B then.

Lurching to the opposite side of the road, I begin to gain ground. The closer I get, the more I know my chances of getting shot are higher.

Except for that blur I was talking about and what they have that is mine—it wins out over everything.

My front bumper lines up to the back fender of the Ford, and that’s when I sidestep —hard. Throwing my brakes on so that I don’t get hit, the vehicle does what I wanted it to do.

However, I didn’t want it to start flipping, which is what I’m watching it do right the fuck now.

I feel my heart drop, as the red truck tosses in a circle, each time hitting a piece of the body and breaking it off into the street.

After at least a minute, it stops upside down, and I skid my tires to a stop.

My boots hit the cement, and I’m running, the back door the first one I yank open. Two gunshots reverberate the moment I do.

Jumping to the side and away from the window, I climb the bottom of the truck.

“Stormi!” I yell, my skin going cold when I’m met with no response.

This. Is. Not. Going. To. End. This. Way.

I remain with no clues of who is behind my sister’s attempted assassination. Hollis is giving up nothing, and that old fuck of her dad isn’t going to be able to take what I have in store for him. That’s why I’m letting Kyson and his calm rationality handle it.

“You’re...fucking dead,” a male voice groans out.

I let out a heavy, inaudible breath. With no gun, I’m useless out here.

My eyes flick to my truck, knowing I have my toolbox of all my fucked up shit in there, but what am I going to do chuck a hammer at them?

“Give me the fucking girl,” I holler back.

“Fuck you!”

I rub my right temple. “Cops are going to be here any minute, or someone is bound to come down this road eventually.”

“Good luck explaining that one, douchebag.”

Seriously, solid point.

My brain can’t think fast enough to turn up with another plan. That, and I really don’t have the time. Someone in the hotel could’ve already called the pigs. We made ample ruckus to wake at least one person up.

However, I wasn’t leaving without Stormi.

Slowly, I make my way to the side where I expect her to be. I need to keep the asshole’s attention away from her window so that I can pull her out, and hopefully, she’s not pinned on something.

On the passenger side’s edge, I reach inside my jeans pocket, finding my wallet, a bottle cap, and a piece of gum.

I’m so fucking off my game that I can’t believe I didn’t pack more ammo.

Balancing on the edge to jump down, I take the item that will create some sort of noise and toss the metal bottle cap.

I hop down, hoping not to make too much noise and land on the other side of the fender. A gunshot rings out again, and I know my plan has worked.

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