The clock was ticking.
Micah could hear every second drumming against his skull, each tick like a countdown to a disaster. Tick. Tick. Tick. The sound wasn't just audible, it was pricking his skin, dragging him into terror. His pulse throbbed in his ears, and his breath came shallow as if the oxygen in the room had thinned.
His tense nerves showed no sign of relaxation.
He was still inside Leo Mckay's hotel suite.
Rather than a suite, it felt more like the scene of a crime.
