105 The Target

Twenty minutes away from Silver Thorn, a black SUV was rolled over with steam rising out of the bonnet. The rain had eased and came to a complete stop on the dusty road. The driver of the car who crashed into them climbed out and grabbed his assault rifle, immediately pointing it towards the car. All in black military attire, his armed men jumped out of the vehicle and approached the car with caution. 

A man with dark bronze skin and light brown curly hair hung out of the black tinted window, unconscious or dead. But he was not their target. Their eyes whipped to the driver's seat and instantly rushed forwards.