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“You think I’m some goddamn toy that you motherfuckers can play with?” she screamed, while the pummeling continued. “Gonna kill me? You think you fucking—”

She’d yelled and unloaded for so long, she was winded. Part of me calmed, thinking it meant things were over.

About the time that reassuring thought washed over me, she shoved the gear shifter into park. The dashboard made a funny sound and pain shot through the top of my leg before I could comprehend what she’d done.

I’d never felt anything like it, a sharp, hot, stabbing sensation that damn near made me double.

Utter disbelief washed through me as I stared down at my key-impaled thigh.

“Did you just stab me with your fucking keys?” I heaved, unable to keep the Karen from my tone.

She reached out and tried to crudely retrieve them, but the muscle on the top of my thigh seemed to latch on. All I could do was grip my leg with one hand and her arm with the other while chanting, “Stop. Stop. Stoooop.”

If she got them out, I had no doubt she’d bury the damn things in my throat if she were able.

“You’re not so big and bad now, are you, Roy?”

I was shaking from the inside out.

Pain and fear collided in me, as I tried to summon the courage to rip the damned thing out myself in one straight haul.

I had to get off this highway before a cop came along.

How the fuck would I explain this? What if she gave her narrative?

Everything flashed white as I jerked with all I had and the bloodied key finally dislodged.

I shakily fumbled to get them in the ignition and start the vehicle, my every thought scattered by the throbbing in my leg.

She turned, threw her door open and made a mad, flailing effort to get away. I wasn’t proud of it, but there was little other option. I snatched her by the hair and jerked her back toward me so roughly the momentum shut the door.

I didn’t lay off the gas until we were a country block from my mother’s tiny farmhouse.

She was balled up against her door sobbing again, and despite saving her life, I still felt like the world’s biggest asshole.

It was like watching someone on a rough acid trip, though. She kept sobering and sobbing at intervals.

“If he asked you to help me, why are you doing this?” her voice shook, as she tried to be brave and face things head on.

“Why would I help him?” I scoffed.

The silence stretched until I slowed and navigated the turn into my mother’s short driveway. I couldn’t blame her for misjudging me. What I’d meant as flirting, she’d interpreted as bullying the night of my arrival. Of course, she thought I was no better than King.

“He’s your brother,” she charged, before furthering, “When he finds out you’ve betrayed him…”

I nodded, knowing it was true.

“He’s my brother. Birdman is my father, and Forty is yours. So, I don’t give a fuck about his feelings, or how quickly he finds out.”

“Why? What could I possibly have done to make him want to kill me– Forty? What does my dad have to do with anything?” The questions spewed, and her face contorted with bewilderment.

“He is their reason. You saw him after your mom died, he almost stepped down then. If they off you and Paxton both, it would cripple Forty. He’d step down and Birdman could finally lead.”

“They want to kill me, and my brother— Over a patch?” she said it back to me all slow like, as if she were hoping I’d hear how crazy it sounded.

I took a deep breath and confirmed with a gentle nod, “Yeah. The patch. The power.”

Laughter trickled from her, and with everything going on, I didn’t think it would stop.