Adrian’s Escape Plan
Adrian leaned heavily against the cold stone wall of his cell, his wrists raw and bloody from the iron chains that held him captive. Each movement sent jolts of pain through his body, but he had endured worse. His crimson eyes remained sharp as he observed the dungeon’s guards, memorizing their patterns—the moments they lingered too long at one end of the corridor, the predictable gaps in their patrols, the way their attention waned when the King’s shadow wasn’t looming.
The task of escape seemed impossible, yet Adrian clung to every detail, building a mental map of potential routes and vulnerabilities. It was a puzzle, and even the smallest piece could lead to freedom.
The faint sound of approaching footsteps broke the oppressive silence. Adrian straightened, his muscles tensing as Misery’s shadowy figure materialized outside his cell. She moved with her usual grace, her crimson eyes gleaming faintly in the dim torchlight. That familiar smirk curled her lips, but Adrian had spent enough time with her to notice the subtle cracks beneath the facade.
“You’re looking worse for wear,” she said, her tone casual as she leaned lazily against the iron bars of his cell.
Adrian’s lips twitched into a faint smirk of his own. “And you’re here to gloat again?”
Misery shrugged, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the bars as though the conversation was beneath her. “Maybe,” she said lightly. “Or maybe I’m here to remind you that you’re running out of time.”
Adrian stepped closer to the bars, his movements deliberate despite his weakened state. His gaze was sharp, cutting through her feigned indifference. “And what’s your role in all this, Misery?” he asked, his voice low but pointed. “Loyal lapdog to the King? Or are you just as trapped as I am?”
For a moment, her smirk faltered. It was barely noticeable—a flicker of vulnerability quickly swallowed by her usual bravado. “Careful,” she said softly, her tone losing its usual venom. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Adrian leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Don’t I?” His crimson eyes bore into hers, unrelenting. “You’ve had countless chances to kill me, but you haven’t. So, tell me, Misery—what are you waiting for?”
Misery stiffened, the tension in her posture betraying her. Her smirk returned, though it didn’t reach her eyes this time. “Don’t try to play me, Adrian,” she said, her tone biting but shaky around the edges. “It won’t work.”
Before he could respond, she turned on her heel, her movements abrupt. Her boots echoed softly against the damp stone floor as she disappeared into the shadows, leaving Adrian alone with his thoughts.
When her presence faded completely, Adrian’s gaze dropped to the weakened section of the stone wall in his cell. Weeks of careful observation had revealed the flaw—hidden beneath a thick layer of damp moss, the stone was cracked, fragile. He had tested it before, pressing against it with what little strength he could muster. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to inspire a flicker of hope.
Adrian knelt beside the wall, his fingers brushing away the moss to expose the jagged crack. He pressed his hand against it, feeling the faint give of the stone. His vampiric strength was diminished in his weakened state, but he knew persistence could wear it down. He had time, and more importantly, he had resolve.
His lips curled into a faint smile as he whispered under his breath, “You’re running out of time too, Misery.”
The crack in the wall was small, but it represented something far greater: a chance. And Adrian wasn’t about to waste it.
