Chapter 9 - The Highway Ambush
""Hold her down!"" Damian shouted, stomping on the accelerator as the Maybach surged forward with six hundred horsepower.
The first SUV swerved violently to the left, attempting to PIT-maneuver the heavy Maybach into the concrete highway barrier. The metal groaned with a deafening screech of ripping paint and sparks as the vehicles collided side-by-side.
Clara curled her body over Daisy, shielding the girl's frail frame with her back. Daisy let out a weak whimper, her eyes fluttering open for a split second before rolling back into unconsciousness.
""Hold on, sweetheart!"" Clara screamed over the screech of tires. ""Damian, she’s completely unresponsive! Her pulse... I can't feel it!""
""Two miles!"" Damian snarled, his face twisted in savage fury. ""Just two more miles!""
The second SUV pulled up on their right, and the rear tinted window rolled down. The barrel of an automatic submachine gun emerged, pointing directly at the Maybach’s passenger cabin.
Damian didn't swerve away. He cut the wheel sharply to the right, deliberately ramming the Maybach’s reinforced front quarter-panel directly into the side of the second SUV at ninety miles per hour. The heavy armored chassis acted like a battering ram. The attacker’s SUV flipped sideways, tumbling over the guardrail and rolling into the wooded ravine in a spectacular fireball.
The first SUV backed off, its front fender crushed and smoking.
Damian swung the wheel back, taking the highway off-ramp on two screaming tires. They shot through the flashing red lights of the downtown intersection, hurtling toward the illuminated glass towers of the Vance Private Medical Center.
The car tore through the ambulance bay gates, sliding sideways and coming to a dead halt inches from the sliding trauma doors.
Damian kicked his door open before the engine even died. He flew into the back seat, scooped Daisy’s limp body against his chest, and sprinted into the bright, sterilizing light of the trauma ward.
""Doctor! Get the crash cart!"" Damian’s voice cracked in a terrifying roar that shattered the hospital lobby's silence.
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A team of eight doctors and nurses in blue scrubs swarmed forward with a gurney. Dr. Alan Vance led the charge, his face paling as he saw the child's lifeless blue lips.
""No pulse,"" Alan shouted, attaching the monitoring pads to Daisy’s small chest. ""Flatline! Charge the pediatric paddles to fifty! Clear!""
