Alan barely had time to shut the passenger door before his boot hit a patch of hidden ice. His legs flew out from under him, and he slammed into the ground with a sickening thud. The pain was instant—blinding, electric—shooting through his lower back like a knife made of fire.
He lay stunned, face buried in snow, unable to breathe for a moment. When he tried to move, white-hot agony seized his spine. Something was wrong. Badly wrong. The cat was barely alive, the pups shivering in the backseat—and he was broken, helpless, discarded by the storm.