Chapter Twenty-Eight.

One second Patricia Walters was speeding across the freeway through blurry eyes, and the next, she'd rammed into a standing tree by the corner of the roads. She couldn't remember much—

—except the fact that she'd run a red light, only to have a pickup van crash right into her. Her car tumbled to the sides, metal doors grazing the sharp concrete with a sound that could light a fire. She was petrified and thrown into a state of quagmire.

A creaking silence pierced through her ears before this loud shrieking sound. Her eyes opened, feeling the coolness of the blood that dripped from her temples to the corner of her lips. The leaves burst through her shattered windshield, ticking her arms.

That was a good sign.

She could feel her arms, her head, not so much. Lightheaded, she pushed through the door that fell to the stoned concrete without a fight. What had happened—and how was it so fast?

Across the road from her was the van that had tipped to its sides as well. She staggered to find her