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 ...