His head whips in my direction, and in a split second, something slams into us from the side. My head bounces off the passenger window and glass explodes into the car, raining down like shrapnel. Everything happens so fast there isn’t even time to process it. I’m dazed and disoriented, coughing from the smoke as my ears ring so loud everything sounds like it’s underwater. The car isn’t moving anymore, I realize, as my father’s voice breaks through my haze.
“Stella, honey. Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” I dab at my temple, and when I pull my fingers back to examine them, they’re coated in blood.
“Put your hands up and step out of the vehicle now,” a command blares from a megaphone behind us, and when I look out the broken window, the car is completely surrounded by federal agents. I reach for the door handle, but my father grabs my arm.
“No. Wait.”
“We can’t wait.” Terror chokes me as I stare down at least a dozen agents with their weapons drawn. “Please just let me go.”
“Are you really pregnant?” he asks.
“Yes!”
He glances down the street, and then behind us like he’s searching for another way out. Clearly, he’s delusional. That’s the only logical explanation for his behavior. And when I look at him, I realize that I don’t recognize him at all anymore. He isn’t the same man who used to make me pancakes and read me bedtime stories. Now, he’s just a criminal who cares more about himself than his own daughter. As if that wasn’t clear enough, he makes it painfully so when he reaches beneath the seat and retrieves a pistol.
“Dad!” I scream as he frantically waves it at the cops and shouts out the window.
“Let us go, or I’ll shoot!” he tells them.
“You’re going to get us both killed!” I try the door handle again, but this time he waves the gun at me.
“Don’t even think about it, Stella. They’ll never shoot a pregnant woman. You’re the only bargaining chip I have left now.”
CHAPTER FORTY
SEBASTIAN
“YOU DON’T HAVEa leg to stand on here, Sebastian.” Savannah Gilbert glares at me as if I’m little more than a piece of rotten gum stuck beneath her shoe. “I’ll have your job for this.”
“Take it.” I shrug. “Do you think I’d even be here if I didn’t know the consequences of my actions?”
Her lips pinch into a tight line, betraying her obvious disappointment that I’m not cowering before her, but she should know me better by now.
“I do have one stipulation, though.” I take a seat in the chair Stella vacated.
Her eyes bulge as she snorts unattractively. “What could you possibly think I would do for you after what you’ve just admitted?”
“I want Stella to complete her studies through correspondence.”
“Not a chance.” She shakes her head without a second thought. “We can’t have a pregnant student on our records. If anyone gets wind of this—”
“She will receive a diploma from Loyola Academy.” I retrieve my phone and set it on her desk. “Or I will go to the board and tell everyone that your miserable, deadbeat excuse for a son has been distributing drugs and alcohol to the students right under your nose for years.”
Her eyes widen as she examines the audio recording taunting her from my iPhone. And when she presses play, just as I knew she would, the color drains from her face as she comes to an understanding that, in this scenario, I have her by the balls.
“How long do you think your job will last when they find out?” I ask.
“Fine.” She stabs at the button on my phone, effectively cutting off her son’s doped up admission. “You’ve made your point, Sebastian.”
“Stella gets a diploma from Loyola,” I reiterate.
“As long as she completes her courses with passing scores, she can graduate with her classmates. But she will not remain on campus. That is non-negotiable.”
“Mr. Carter!” Sybil flings open the door, breathless and eyes wide with panic.
A familiar dread creeps into my veins as I force the words from my throat. “What is it?”