Lance blinks slowly and looks out the window again. The rain falls noisily against the sides of the jet, and the sound makes the pounding in his head even worse. It’s pitch black outside.
“The weather is terrible,” Robert says. “That’s why it looks so dark. Now, you have to rest if you’re going to recover. Please lie back down and try to sleep.”
Robert firmly pushes Lance’s shoulder, forcing him to lie back down. Normally, he’s strong enough to fight Robert, but he collapses against the pillows almost instantly. The smooth, luxurious cotton of the pillowcase feels scratchy and rough against his cheek. Everything hurts unbearably.
“Let me see the clock,” Lance orders.
Lance can’t be sure, but it looks like Robert winks at the bodyguards before saying, “Bring Mr. Hamilton the clock.”
T
