“Wade,” I say, trying to wake him up. He groans slightly and opens one eye, looking at me. His eyes grow dark with worry as he sits up fast and reaches out to touch my bleeding forehead.
“s**t, is that from me or your own injury?” he whispers.
“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly.
I Take a moment to look around and notice we are still in his truck that’s turned onto its side on Wade’s side of the vehicle. I make my way to a standing position and help wade out of his precarious position. Wades effortlessly breaks out the windshield and we crawl out, surveying his truck, trying to understand what the hell happened.
“Damn.” a voice says from behind us.
Turning around, we find a tall man sauntering towards us with short jet black hair and gray streaks at his temple. He sports a wicked scar
