Calista practically clawed her way out through the narrow gap in the car door.
She didn't even register the shards of glass slicing into her palms as she stumbled forward, dropping to her knees in front of Baldwin.
The car was completely wrecked. Baldwin was trapped in the driver's seat, unconscious, blood pouring from the gash on his forehead like a faucet that wouldn't shut off.
Calista's face turned pale. Her hand hovered over his wound, trembling, before she froze, unable to bring herself to touch him.
"Does it hurt?"
No response.
She was the only one who had come out of this accident unscathed. But she knew—if Baldwin hadn't shielded her at the last second, she wouldn't have walked away so easily.
"Right. Call 911..."
Calista finally snapped out of it and fumbled for her phone
