Victor's POV
Pain woke me. Not the dull kind that follows a night of drinking, but the sharp, insistent kind that screams something is wrong. My head throbbed. Warm blood trickled down my temple. The world was tilted—literally. Our car rested at an angle, nose buried in dirt, one wheel still spinning uselessly.
I blinked, trying to focus. Where was I? The crash. I remembered the crash.
"Raven?" My voice came out as a croak. "Tiara?"
No answer. Just the tick-tick-tick of the cooling engine and the rustle of wind through broken glass.
I was alone.
Breathing hurt. Probably a cracked rib or two. I moved my arms, my legs. Everything worked, though my left knee protested loudly. Twenty years in Raven's service had taught me one thing: assess before you act.
Injury check: Head wound, bleed
