Chapter 4: The March of the Condemned

Adrian stared at the heavy cream paper in his hands. The organ music swelled, shaking the stained-glass windows above us.

I was twenty paces away.

Fifteen.

Time seemed to warp, stretching into a thick, unyielding syrup.

I watched Adrian’s brow furrow. He turned the program over, his thumb resting right on the edge of the seal that held the secret insert.

Beside him in the front row, Vanessa leaned forward, her eyes darting between me and the piece of paper in Adrian’s hand.