text: Request for monitoring detected. Checking authorization now. Recognizing Draconic-Level Imprint. Authorization granted for Wes Malcolm. Access granted to current monitoring log regarding Chris Rhodes.
  
  [ Chris' perspective ]
  
  I floored the throttle until the gunshots were far off in the distance.
  
  "Don't call for backup!" I shouted at Davelon's father. "They will kill us all if you call for backup!"
  
  The large man turned to look at me in horror.
  
  "Don't give me that look," I snapped, out of patience for this shit today. "You had to know they were keeping tabs on you. Dad would have made sure you got at least one sufficiently vague threat a month."
  
  "I didn't believe they would go this far," the investigator said numbly.
  
  "What do you mean, honey?" Veronica Brown said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. "What's going on? Why are people shooting at us?"
  
  "Davelon," Thomas Brown whispered, horror creeping into his voice. "They could be after Davelon as well."
  
  "Davelon?" Stephanie Malcolm blinked, coming out of shock. "He said he was out with Rachel…" Her eyes widened, in the way a person's did when their sanity had already taken a heavy battering. "Where is Rachel?"
  
  "Where is Davelon?" the other mother in the car asked at the same time.
  
  "On it!" I shouted, trying to prevent bedlam from erupting in my SUV. "I swear to God I'm already on it! They're already safe!"
  
  I really hoped I wasn't exaggerating, but now wasn't the time to admit that. I slowed down to avoid triggering one of the many speed traps on the outskirts of town.
  
  "Where are you taking us?" Mother Malcolm demanded. "And where is my son? You said my son was alive. Where is my son? Where is my daughter? Where is my son? Where is my—"
  
  "It's okay, honey," Veronica Brown soothed, hugging the other woman and trying to help her hold on to her sanity.
  
  "I swear you'll see him, okay?" I said, panic creeping into my own throat. "But only if I can keep us alive long enough to get us somewhere safe."
  
  I can't believe it had come to this. Me, Chris Rhodes, valedictorian and title-winning quarterback, stuck in a car chase scene straight out of a bad B-movie that I wasn't even the main character in.
  
  "Just let me drive, and I swear to God that if we live through this you'll get your answers."
  
  "I'm not sure I should believe you," Thomas Brown said quietly, putting a hand near where he probably kept his concealed handgun.
  
  I couldn't help it. I laughed. It was the most panicky, cracking sound I had ever made.
  
  "Believe me?" I couldn't stop. I kept cackling, looking like a total idiot. "Do you think I still believe this? Even after seeing it happen? Was I the only one that just saw a guy get shot in the forehead, and him shake off the first bullet? Yes? No?"
  
  The cop sitting behind me suddenly hissed.
  
  "That's right," I said, getting most of myself under control. "You're going to see a lot more impossible things than that. And for the record? Don't waste a bullet on me. If I go down, and you still have company, put all of your bullets into the other guy's face. All of them. Until you see his brains leak out. Because if you stop before then, he'll get back up and kill you."
  
  The massive man opened his mouth again to talk, closed it, then leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes as well.
  
  "Just let him drive," he said finally. "And pray. Lord Jesus help us all…"
  
  His wife began praying as well, still holding Wes' mother as she did so. I tried not to sneer. My faith in any kind of heaven had been beaten out of me a long time ago. Absolute confidence in several kinds of hell had sort of taken its place.
  
  I reached the end of the city limits, where the speed limit picked up, and I began to accelerate as much as I dared. Every fiber in me wanted to floor the damn thing for all it was worth, but I knew being inconspicuous was my best chance at survival right now. I had no idea how Malcolm had managed to get Dad's people to fight each other but as long as his own team won they probably wouldn't call in immediately. That was because if they actually defected they wouldn't let the Malus Members know and if they had been tricked they weren't about to announce that they had shut down an op. Aside from that, lots of people were probably calling 911 after so many loud gun shots.
  
  …Which meant the police would get involved, and that my cover was about to be blown anyway.
  
  I swore and began to speed.