Arlene's POV
The drive back to our house fills with excited chatter as the twins share stories about helping classmates with their writing assignments. Their teacher rewarded them with colorful stickers, and they bounce in their seats, eager to display their prizes. A chill runs down my spine as we approach the turn toward our neighborhood. I slow the vehicle at the intersection and shift into park when a piercing noise fills my head.
A figure emerges from the shadows, stepping directly into our path. She wears all black, her trench coat billowing as she throws it open. The metallic gleam of what appears to be automatic weapons catches the streetlight.
"Shit," I curse under my breath and floor the accelerator on instinct.
Our car lurches forward, connecting hard with her body.
"Mama," Nicholson laughs from her car seat.
"What happened?" Rockford questions, his voice more serious than his sister's.
