The plastic began to fray.

“Five seconds,” the officer said.

He picked up the pen and held it out to me.

“Four.”

“Three.”

I gave one final, desperate wrench of my wrists.

The plastic zip-tie snapped with a sharp crack.

I kept my hands behind my back, my fingers curling around the broken ends.

“I’ll sign,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

I leaned forward, reaching my hand out toward the pen.

The officer stepped closer, lowering his guard.

As my fingers closed around the silver pen, I drove my boots into the wooden crate, sending the heavy lantern flying directly toward his face.

The glass shattered, and the room erupted into flames as the fuel caught the dry wood.

In the sudden chaos of fire and smoke, I lunged forward.

My fingers gripped his wrist, twisting it back until the bone popped.

He roared in pain, dropping the device.

I snatched the phone from the floor just as the screen began to crack from the heat.

Daniel scrambled toward the door, throwing his weight against it.

“It’s locked from the outside!” he screamed.