Bolt’s mind drifted in and out of consciousness several times. Sometimes he would get close to consciousness—feeling hard stone under his body, hear voices he couldn’t understand argue about something—but then he’d slip back into unconsciousness and forget about everything except for blissful sleep, which seemed like a blessing in comparison to the sharp pain that consciousness brought with it.
How long Bolt was out, he didn’t know. He wasn’t even sure why he was unconscious. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a sharp pain would jolt his memories of an empty alleyway with an injured woman, but then his mind would drift back to unconsciousness.
Sleep, Bolt thought. Wow. I forgot just how nice it is to sleep without any worries in the—
A sharp pain—like a needle being jabbed directly int
