Jack Frost

The ice was black, stained with oil dripping from the wrecked car. The people inside didn't even stand a chance, not when the ice was specifically designed to kill them.

A heavy snowstorm engulfed the area, while other cars were lined up for miles because of the pileup. And in the middle of it all, Jack Frost stood on top of the wrecked car.

He had a lazy smile on his lips, which made the situation even more complicated. It was always him. The winter accidents, killing mercilessly. After all, winter was cruel.