The Countdown
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
The clock on the wall isn't loud. It's quiet, steady. To Adrian, however, each elapsing second is a hammer striking his skull.
His wrists are raw from fighting against the ropes, and the drug they pumped into his veins still clings to him like a thick fog. His limbs feel heavy as lead, his muscles lethargic, but his brain is working- much too fast, much too slow, flickering between memories and the cold, hard present.
Flora.
Where was she?
The last thing he remembers is the gunshot. Her scream. The sound of something heavy hitting the ground. Then—nothing. Just darkness.
A door creaks open.
Adrian’s head jerks up, sharp pain slicing through the back of his skull. His vision blurs, then clears, but the figure standing in the doorway is nothing but a
