My husband ordered me to lie about what happened beside the well, but for the first time, I looked him in the eyes and said, “No.”

The truck climbed higher and higher into the foothills, the paved county road gradually deteriorating into a narrow, winding gravel track choked on both sides by towering, ancient pine trees and steep, rocky drop-offs with no guardrails.

Inside the cab, the air was thick with tension. Mark drove with one hand on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed grimly on the winding road ahead, while his right hand rested loosely near the center console where he had tossed his heavy metal flashlight and a hunting knife sheath.

My mind raced at a thousand miles an hour. Every bump in the road sent sharp, agonizing cramps shooting through my lower back, reminding me that the baby was already under immense stress from the cold, the trauma, and the terror. If we reached the isolated northern cabin, nobody would ever find us. I had to act before we crested the mountain ridge.

"Mark," I said softly, my voice trembling just enough to sound weak and defeated.

He glanced sideways at me, suspicion narrowing his eyes. "What?"

"I... I'm sorry," I whispered, letting my head loll back against the headrest as if I were dizzy and exhausted. "You're right. I was having a breakdown. The stress of the business... the pregnancy... it all got to me. Just... please don't take me to the cabin. Let's just go back home. I'll take my medication. I'll do whatever you want."

Mark studied my face for a long, agonizing moment, searching for any sign of defiance. When he saw only tears and trembling submission, a smug, arrogant smile touched the corners of his lips.

"See? Was that so hard, Elena?" he said, his tone softening into patronizing condescension as he reached out with one hand to pat my knee patronizingly. "You just need to learn your place. Once you accept that I'm the one in control—"

Now.

While his eyes were flicking back to the winding road and his hand was off the steering wheel, I didn't hesitate.

With a sudden burst of desperate energy, I threw my entire body weight sideways across the center console, grabbing the steering wheel with both hands and jerking it hard to the right.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Mark roared, his face draining of all color.

The heavy pickup truck swerved violently off the gravel road, its front tires smashing through a row of wooden warning posts and careening directly toward the steep, rocky embankment overlooking a hundred-foot drop into the ravine.

"Are you insane?!" Mark screamed, letting go of the console, lunging across the cab, and slamming his foot onto the brake pedal while fighting me for control of the wheel.

Screeeech!

The tires locked up, spraying showers of loose gravel and dirt over the edge of the cliff as the truck skidded sideways, slamming front-first into the thick trunk of a massive pine tree just two feet from the precipice.

The impact threw us both forward with bone-crushing force. My head smacked hard against the dashboard, stars exploding behind my eyes, while Mark smashed his chest against the steering column with a sharp grunt of agony.

For several seconds, the cab fell completely silent except for the hissing of the smoking radiator and the steady drip of fluid pooling onto the dirt below.

My head was ringing, blood trickling warm down my forehead from a cut above my eyebrow, but my hands immediately dropped to my lower stomach.

The baby... please, God, let the baby be okay.

Beside me, Mark groaned, slumping sideways against the steering wheel, his breath coming in ragged, painful gasps as he clutched his bruised ribs.

I didn't wait for him to recover.

Using my elbow to push myself up, I clawed at the passenger door handle. Miraculously, the impact had jammed the electronic locks open. The door swung outward with a loud creak.

I tumbled out of the truck onto the damp pine needles of the mountainside, gasping for air, clutching my belly, and looking desperately around for any sign of a road, a house, or a way down.