KAIREN
The wind was a physical shock, so cold and sharp it felt like needles driving into my skin. It ripped the last of the fuzzy gas-haze from my head, replacing it with a clear, sharp terror. Everything hurt. My wrists were on fire from the plastic zip-tie digging into them.
I was being dragged. My feet, numb and clumsy, stumbled and scraped over the rough, cold concrete. My hands were bound in front of me, the cheap, brutal plastic of the zip tie digging into my wrists, a constant, biting reminder of my captivity. The masked operative's grip on my bicep was a vise of iron, hauling me forward like a sack of grain, my own weight a weapon used against me.
The rotor blades. I felt them before I heard them.A deep, subsonic thrum that vibrated up through the soles of my shoes, into my bones, rattling the fillings in my teeth.
