TWO
PENELOPE
“We’re already late!”Nova whined for the thousandth time as we made our way toward Main Street. I continued to ignore her, like everyone else in the truck, except Jamie. He kept glancing in the rearview mirror as if part of his heart was being hit each time his little girl complained. I chose to watch the cute storefronts along Main Street begin to bring in their racks of clothes, and the tables that usually sat outside for patrons to enjoy the weather. It was so close to Christmas, they usually left all that out to draw in business, but perhaps there was a cold front coming in or something else.
“Ellie probably took all the best cookie cutter shapes.” My daughter tucked her arms in tight, scowling out her window.
My phone vibrated in my lap, but I was half turning in my seat, looking back at Nova to tell her to stop acting so spoiled. She knew how I’d respond to her whining like this. The phone vibrated again as I took in Nova’s lighter hair, like Jamie’s, but she had my eyes and my mouth. She looked like me, and often acted like me, but at eight years old, she just looked like a little girl, with wide eyes and a heart entirely set on baking Christmas cookies with her best friends.
My heart seemed to soften just like Jameson’s had.
“Honey, try not to worry. You know Aunt Natty would never let you miss out on using your favorite cutters, she probably set them?—”
My words cut off as the truck slammed to a stop, my chest surging against the seat belt. In the middle of the road was a man on a motorcycle, pointing a gun at our windshield. The air in my lungs wouldn’t work, even as a gasp cut through the truck.
Then Jamie was screaming.
“Down, get down. Nova, Connor, get on the floor.” He dove over the seat to cover me right as our windshield shattered.
My mind emptied, but then panic swelled, carrying the thoughts I wanted to let drift away, all right back into focus.
We’d been shot at. Someone just shot at our family. My children…my husband.
“Jamie,” I breathed with a shuddered breath.
My husband had glass all over his back, but he was okay. I felt him breathing harshly against my neck right as he began to move.
“Don’t,” I cried, but my husband was already reaching for the gun he kept under the seat. He ensured it was loaded and ready to fire before rasping out a question for our kids.
“Nova, Connor…are you both okay?”
Their voices were small as they replied, “Yeah.”
The loud exhaust from a motorcycle began to thrum outside and my gut sank. Whoever had shot at us was now riding toward us.
My daughter began whimpering as Jamie briskly sat up, pointing his gun directly out the center of his window. His brows furrowed as his hand lowered, and the gun was set down on the seat, right before he opened his door and exited the truck.
I slowly sat up, ensuring it was safe while trying to soothe the kids. “Nova, baby, it’s okay,” I said, but my voice shook. Fear was a hammer battering against my heart.
Jameson walked ahead, meeting a rider in the middle of the road, the man who’d shot at us lay next to his bike on the ground as blood soaked the snowy ground. My husband hugged the rider who was pushing down the kickstand to his bike. From the damage on the shooter’s bike, he’d been hit and knocked to the ground.
“Is it safe, Mommy?” Nova asked, and when I looked back, I saw Connor holding her hand while he was trying to peek at what was going on.
“Uncle Giles is out there!” Connor shot up, reaching for his door.
“Connor!” I tried to keep him in place, but he was already leaving and yelling back, “It’s the Chaos Kings, they’re on our side, Mom.”
My son ran around to the front of the truck, where Jameson pulled him under his arm. If the Chaos Kings were here and seemed to know we’d be under attack then that meant only one thing.
My phone buzzed again next to me, and I pulled it up to see a message that had my blood going cold.
Laura: Dinner is ready, better get back to the club. It’s time to eat.
We were at war, and our enemy was already here.