Edward's Point Of View
The echo of the door slamming shut still vibrated through the floorboards, a heavy, final thud that felt like the lid of a casket closing on all of us. I stood frozen, staring at the empty space where Rita had just been standing, my feet rooted to the Persian rug as though the intricate patterns had become chains.
Her ultimatum… "58 minutes" lingered in the air like the smell of ozone before a lethal lightning strike, each passing second a countdown to our destruction.
The Moore estate, usually so curated and silent, suddenly grew loud with the sound of our panicked breathing. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked with newfound menace, each swing of its pendulum marking time we couldn't afford to waste.
Sarah was the first to snap. She trembled so violently that her jewelry rattled against her skin, producing a frantic, rhythmic clicking that seemed to count down the seconds we didn't have.
