But now, I didn't have time to think about that.
The temperature in the car was rising, and it was only a matter of moments before the vehicle would explode.
I took a few deep breaths, my eyes falling on the curve of my swollen belly.
Summoning every ounce of strength, I tried to climb out through the shattered window.
My palms were sliced open by the glass, shards embedding themselves deep into my skin.
I managed to move another ten inches out of the wreckage.
But my strength was fading fast. I collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air.
The heat from the car practically roasted my skin. In just two minutes, the smoke had completely engulfed the vehicle.
More people began to gather around, and some of them started shouting for help, asking if there were any doctors nearby.
Soon, I heard hurried footsteps approaching.
I looked up and saw Robert Jackson, the head of Zayne's department.
Robert quickly assessed the situation and organized some kind-hearted bystanders to help pull me out of the wreckage.
The moment they moved me to a safe distance, the car exploded behind us.
Robert examined my injuries while concerned onlookers crowded around.
They whispered among themselves.