The next day was a complete mess.

Tired as hell and dead on my feet, I was in a rush to get home after working a ten-hour shift and having to pick Lucca up from daycare. Thanks to my obnoxious neighbors, neither he nor I had gotten much sleep the night before. The jackals had spent most of the night drinking, hollering, and partying like the unemployed junkies they were. It pissed me off, but there wasn't anything I could do about it without causing problems.

Calling the police was out of the question because they wouldn't do a damn thing about it and confronting them myself wasn't an option either. The last thing I needed to do was to piss off a bunch of drunk—and probably high—men standing less than thirty feet from my front door.

I may be hotheaded and mouthy, but I'm not stupid.

Peeking over at a sleeping Lucca, who was strapped into his car seat on the truck’s bench seat beside me, I exhaled in exhaustion. I needed to get him home so I could feed him, bathe him, and get him to bed. The way things were looking, my little man wouldn't be able to stay awake long enough to eat supper.

Wanting to get home faster, I pressed my foot down on the gas pedal harder and waited for my truck’s engine to roar before taking off at a faster speed.

That didn't happen though.  

Instead of the truck taking off, it slowed, and the tension behind the gas pedal vanished. The engine sputtered like I was running out of gas, and I quickly looked at the fuel gauge on the dash. The tank was half full so that wasn’t the problem. 

The engine continued to struggle; my speed continued to slow.

“What the hell?” I hissed to myself as I pumped my foot up and down on the accelerator in quick succession. 

Half a second later, the wheel tightened as I lost power steering, making it damn near impossible to steer. Holding on with both hands, I used every bit of my upper body strength to maneuver my tank of a truck to the side of the road. I pressed on the brakes and listened in horror as the engine gave one final sputter before dying completely.

“You gotta be shitting me!” I was in disbelief as I shifted the transmission into park and turned on my emergency blinkers. “This can NOT be fricken happening!” 

Shaking my head like a fool, I wrapped two fingers around the keys still stuck in the ignition and turned it off. “Listen to me, Betsy,” I said to the truck, calling it by the name I’d given it the day I bought it, “when I turn this key you better start. Else me and you are going to have major problems!”

Holding my breath, I twisted the key and attempted to restart the engine.

“Come on, you piece of shit—crank for me!”

Much to my dismay, it turned over but wouldn’t fire up.

Crossing the fingers on my left hand, I prepared to try again.

“If you don’t start this time, Betsy, I’m sending you to the junkyard!”

I turned the key. 

More turning over; still no starting.

“Son of a bitch!” I smacked the steering wheel with my palm three times.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Madder than a wet hen, I grabbed my phone from my purse on the floorboard by my feet and swept my finger across the cracked screen. 

A screen that’s cracked thanks to me dropping it on the sidewalk at work. 

I didn't know who to call for help. Even if I didn’t feel guilty about calling Hendrix, he was in the middle of a shift at the fire station, and I damn sure wasn’t calling Maddie. She didn’t need to drag her pregnant butt out of bed to come rescue me. Hope, along with Evan and Clara, were working, and Grandmama was downtown playing Bingo; therefore, none of them were options. There were a few other people I could call—like Pop—but I didn’t trust any of them enough to climb into a vehicle beside them. 

Crap! 

Much as I hated to do it, I was just going to have to call the shelter and see if anyone could step away for thirty minutes and come pick Lucca and me up. 

Except, after one glance down at my phone, I realized even that wasn’t an option because I didn’t have a signal. 

Not a single bar on my display screen was lit.

What the hell? How is this even possible? 

Leaning my head back on the headrest of the seat, I chuckled to myself. “This just keeps getting better.” What had I done to piss off the universe? It seemed like life was throwing more than my fair share of lemons my way. Every single day it was something new. I swear if it wasn’t one thing, it was another.

I know they say God doesn’t give you more than you can handle, but, at that point, I should’ve been able to bench press a Greyhound bus. 

Irritated beyond belief, I tilted my head back and stared at the roof. “I am far too good of a person for so much bad shit to keep happening to me.” 

I peeked over at a still sleeping Lucca.

Please stay asleep, little man.

I unlatched my seat belt and climbed out of the truck as quietly as I could. Sticking my phone up in the air, I walked around in the blackness surrounding my vehicle while hoping like hell my phone would find a signal.

It didn’t.

Why would it?

Screw it. Time to put on my big girl panties and handle this shit.

I tossed the cheap phone inside the truck with more force than necessary, leaned down and popped the hood latch beneath the dash. I didn’t know a thing about cars, but I figured it was worth a shot to look at the engine. Maybe a wire or something had come loose. Or maybe the battery cable needed to be reattached. At that point, I was grasping at straws.

Cursing Betsy to heaven and back, I lifted the hood.

Instantly, a bellow of steam engulfed me, stinging my arms, face, and chest.

“Shit!” I screamed as I released the hood and stumbled backward. The heavy hood slammed shut, rocking the entire truck in a jarring motion.

Using the bottom of my tank top, I blotted the rapidly cooling moisture from my skin. “Damn it to hell.” 

Again, I didn’t know much about cars, but I wasn’t a complete idiot. I knew steam wasn’t a good sign. Nor was the ticking sound coming from the bottom of the engine.

Ugh!

Anger burned in the pit of my gut, and I dropped my head back and stared at the night sky. “You know,” I shouted toward the place I assumed heaven—if it even existed—was, “if you could cut me some slack that would be great!”

Walking back to the driver’s door, I peeked in at Lucca. By some miracle, he was still asleep. I couldn’t believe it.

Turning around, I leaned back against the truck bed and contemplated what to do next. I couldn’t call anybody, and it was too far of a walk back to the last gas station we passed. There weren’t any houses nearby, not that I would march up to some stranger’s front door with Lucca on my hip.

I wasn’t putting my son at risk like that.

I guessed I’d just have to wait and—

Out of nowhere, headlights suddenly appeared, halting my thoughts. I watched with bated breath as the approaching vehicle slowed down and pulled to the side of the road. It stopped about ten feet behind my truck, and I exhaled in relief. That relief, however, was short-lived when no one made a move to get out.

Um…

Raising my hand in front of my face, I shielded my eyes from the headache-inducing beams pointed right at me. Standing still as a statue, I felt like a deer caught in the headlights as I tried to make out the big vehicle idling only feet away.

Maybe it’s someone I know, I silently hoped.

Bright spots danced in my vision, and I blinked a few times to clear them. What kind of truck—

Wait…

I blinked again.

The vehicle wasn’t a pickup truck. It was an SUV.

A black SUV. Just like the one he used to drive. 

Panic assailed me. 

Trying to rationalize what I was seeing, my brain moved a million miles per hour. It couldn’t be him. He couldn’t have found me. Not here. I’d covered all my tracks, tied up all the loose ends.

There was no way…

He found you before, Shelby, the voice in my head spoke. And now he’s found you again.

My heart jack hammered in my chest and adrenaline surged through my veins.

This was real. He was here. He’d found me.

Found Lucca.

Panicked, I dove into the truck. Knees planted on the middle of the driver’s seat, I reached over, yanked open the dash, and pulled out the pistol I kept there. I shoved it into the front of my jean shorts and, in two swift moves, unlatched Lucca from his seat and pulled him to me.

He whined in frustration, but I didn’t have time to stop and comfort him.

I needed to move, needed to hide, before he got his hands on me.

On us.

If I allowed him to catch us, it would be the end. 

There would be no fighting. 

There would be no escaping.

There would be no living.

I’d survived once. He wouldn’t allow that to happen again.

Backing out of the truck in a quick, stumbling movement, I bolted around the front end on shaky legs and ran for the embankment beside the road. Slipping after the first step, I landed on my butt and slid the rest of the way down. Dirt, small rocks, and God only knows what else dug into my thighs and lower back, but I didn’t care.

At the bottom, I pushed to my feet and took off running.

I ducked behind a large oak tree with a trunk wider than two of me put together. Lucca whimpered, and I patted his back and kissed him on the head to calm him.

Please don’t let that be the last kiss I ever give him, I prayed.

He quieted as I held him against the left side of my chest. Smacking his lips one final time, his eyelids slid closed, and he drifted back to sleep.

Good boy. Just go to sleep. Mama’s got this. 

Pulling the gun out of my shorts with my right hand, I flicked off the safety and peered around the tree. The SUV still sat idling behind my truck. Its driver’s door was open, and the interior light illuminated the inside.

I saw no one anywhere.

Two seconds ticked by before a shadow appeared.

Tall and muscular, the monster walked with a purpose.

That purpose: to hunt, to punish, to kill.

Every maternal instinct I possessed came roaring to life, ultimately overriding any panic that swirled inside of me. The need to fight, to protect, and to ensure my baby's survival overwhelmed me.

I took a steadying breath.

You can do this, Shelby. Lucca is depending on you.

Holding Lucca tighter, I stepped out from behind the tree and raised my gun in the air. I aimed for the monster’s chest, keeping my arm steady.

I was terrified, yet my hands didn’t shake.

Determination set in and I knew what I had to do.

Two in the chest and one in the head, I told myself as I laid my finger on the trigger. Don’t let him hurt you again. Protect yourself. Protect Lucca!

“I won’t let you hurt me again,” I whispered to the darkness. “And I will die before I let you hurt my son.” It was the truth. “This ends—now.”

My finger had begun to pull back on the trigger when a deep voice yelled out, startling me. “Sunshine!” It boomed. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I dropped the arm holding the gun to my side.

Shit!

This was bad.

Very, very bad.