"What the hell did you just say?!" Vulture's head whipped around, his glare locking onto Sparrow.
Frustration and anger flared in his chest—not only had his attack failed miserably, but now Sparrow had the nerve to snap at him and call him a pussy.
Sparrow didn't reply, his focus entirely on the wheel. Beads of sweat rolled down his temples as he fought to stabilize the truck, which was tilting dangerously to one side.
"That's it!" Vulture growled, his patience snapping. But instead of firing back with words, he acted. Without warning, he threw open the door and leaped out of the moving truck.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Sparrow yelled, his voice cracking in alarm, while the man in the passenger seat shouted after Vulture in sheer disbelief.
Both watched in stunned horror as Vulture hit the ground and rolled, disappearing from view amid the chaos.
"Get back here, Vulture!" Sparrow shouted from his seat, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.
