Slow and steady, his blood kept travelling down his arms, all the way to his fingertips before dripping on the ground, its moisture coming almost as a comfort to his shafted wrists, although it was still far from enough to help him get released.

He tried counting the drops to keep track of the volume, not because it gave him any hope that he would be rescued in time for that information to be useful, but because it gave him something to focus on that wasn't the possibility that his team was walking into a trap.

Knowing that he would likely die there didn't hurt near as much as being used as a bait to kill the people that he cared about the most.

Bait