She attempted to move her legs. A sharp, blinding pain shot up her spine, stealing the breath from her lungs. She looked down through the darkness. The dashboard had crumpled inward like crushed aluminum, pinning her right calf completely. She could not feel her toes.
A weak, wet sound came from the back seat.
Elliana's heart stopped. The air in her throat turned to sandpaper. She jerked her head around, her neck muscles screaming in protest.
Clara.
Her six-year-old daughter was slumped sideways against the shattered window. Her tiny pink dress was stained dark. Her face was covered in a mask of red, surrounded by glittering shards of safety glass.
Elliana threw her upper body toward the gap between the front seats. She stretched her arm out, her fingers trembling violently.
She was half an inch away from Clara's small hand.
The jagged metal of the center console sliced into Elliana's forearm. She did not feel it. She pushed harder, tearing her own flesh, but her trapped leg anchored her in place.
She slammed her bloody palm against the driver's side window. She screamed for help. The sound tore her vocal cords, but the violent thunderstorm swallowed her voice whole. The dark woods surrounding the winding mountain road offered nothing but silence.
A blinding white beam of light suddenly pierced the darkness.
The heavy, rhythmic thud of helicopter rotors vibrated through the wet asphalt. A private medical helicopter touched down on a flat stretch of road fifty yards away. The Lancaster family crest was painted clearly on its side.
Elliana's chest he heave. Her lungs burned as she sucked in air. She slammed her fist onto the center of the steering wheel. The damaged horn let out a harsh, broken blare. She pressed it again and again, her blood smearing over the leather.
Three paramedics in neon jackets jumped from the helicopter. A man in a tailored suit-one of Devontae's personal fixers-intercepted them immediately on the wet tarmac. He pointed frantically at the sports car. "Over there! The SUV driver is fine, but we have a severe asthma attack and a potential cardiac event in the sports car! Hurry!" The paramedics, following the urgent misdirection of the family staff, did not look toward her crushed SUV. They ran straight past her, heading toward the sleek sports car that had rear-ended them and spun out into the guardrail.
Elliana pressed her face against the broken glass.
Sitting in the driver's seat of the sports car was Kyle. Devontae's mistress. In the passenger seat was Brielle, Kyle's daughter.
Kyle had a small scratch on her forehead. She was clutching her chest and crying hysterically. The paramedics rushed to her, carefully pulling her and Brielle from the intact vehicle and placing them on stretchers.
Elliana's stomach violently dropped. She frantically felt around the floorboards. Her fingers brushed against the cold, cracked screen of her phone.
She picked it up. Her thumbs slipped on her own blood as she dialed Devontae's number.
He answered on the second ring. The sound of wind and helicopter rotors echoed through the speaker.
"Why aren't you home yet?" Devontae's voice was sharp and laced with irritation.
"Devontae!" Elliana screamed, her voice cracking. "We crashed. Clara is bleeding. She's not moving. Tell the medics to come to my car! Please!"
Devontae let out a heavy sigh. "Kyle is having a panic attack. Brielle has asthma. They need to get to the hospital in Manhattan immediately."
"Clara is dying!" Elliana roared. The veins in her neck bulged. "She is your daughter! Tell them to look at her!"
"Stop being so dramatic, Elliana," Devontae snapped. "I am sick of you using Clara to play the victim and get my attention. The medics will come back for you later."
The line went dead.
The dial tone echoed in the small, crushed cabin. It sounded like a flatline.
Outside, the helicopter engine roared to life. The massive downdraft shook Elliana's car. She watched through the rain as the aircraft lifted off, carrying Kyle and Brielle into the night sky, leaving her and Clara in the absolute dark.
The weak breathing from the back seat stopped.
Clara's small hand slipped from the edge of the seat and dangled lifelessly in the air.
Elliana stared at that little hand. The air left her lungs. Her brain stopped processing the rain, the cold, and the pain.
A raw, animalistic wail ripped from her throat. She grabbed the twisted metal trapping her leg with both hands. She pulled. Her fingernails bent backward and snapped. Blood poured from her fingertips. She ripped her leg free, leaving a chunk of her own flesh behind on the dashboard.
She dragged her broken body over the center console and fell into the back seat. She pulled Clara's cold, limp body into her arms. She pressed her face into her daughter's hair.
A venomous, suffocating hatred wrapped around her heart. It squeezed until she could not breathe. She wanted Devontae dead. She wanted Kyle dead.
The smell of gasoline grew overwhelmingly strong. A thick pool of fuel had leaked from the undercarriage, flooding the floor mats.
Elliana reached into the storage compartment on the back of the passenger seat. Her bloody fingers wrapped around the cold metal of a windproof lighter she kept for lighting scented candles around the house.
She flipped the lid open. Her thumb pressed down hard on the ignition.
A blue flame sparked to life. It illuminated her pale face and her dead, empty eyes.
She did not hesitate. She dropped the lighter into the puddle of gasoline at her feet.
A wall of fire instantly erupted. The heat blistered her skin in a fraction of a second. The flames swallowed the car. Elliana wrapped her body completely around Clara, shielding her daughter's face as the fire consumed them both.
The pain reached an unbearable peak. Then, the world snapped into absolute, weightless black.
Elliana's eyes snapped open. Her lungs violently sucked in a massive breath of cold air.
She shot up into a sitting position. She grabbed her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She gasped for air, choking on nothing.
She looked around wildly. There was no fire. There was no crushed metal.
She was sitting in the middle of a massive, soft velvet bed. Morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of the master bedroom in the Lancaster estate.
/1/113786/coverbig.jpg?v=31ad59dc0ebbc0e5855feb2748f4813f)
View More Comments on App
/1/113942/coverbig.jpg?v=24d589f2b884c5eba78ace98971273a2)
/1/113687/coverbig.jpg?v=aa02de61de03f5fd9c8083d6caf3d118)
/0/92108/coverbig.jpg?v=3feb5b7c3ac8d64e87bf5ef86363b7f2)
/0/86751/coverbig.jpg?v=755d0d723f976cd4573ab8b7dd885be3)
/0/85902/coverbig.jpg?v=468b8b9225489c544818f78a1dfd5750)
/0/85750/coverbig.jpg?v=ff4cf831d1df1869771a81fcca749c03)
