When Time Ran Out

Previously

…Arthur’s blood ran cold. He instinctively clutched the note tighter, his mind racing. He could see it now: Harding, the enforcer of the law, was likely another cog in the machine, another guardian of the gilded cage. Or perhaps, just perhaps, he was the honest hand the note had hoped for. The choice, the terrifying choice, was now his. To speak, and risk the wrath of those who listened, or to remain silent, and let the Nightingale’s song fade into eternal silence. The weight of that decision settled upon him, heavy and suffocating, as Harding’s gaze lingered on him, waiting.