The ropes dug into his skin. Their rough fibers cut a little deeper with every shift of his wrists, but he couldn't give up yet. He knew that if he twisted just right, he'd be able to slip a hand free and then escape would be just a few knots away.
Unfortunately, the person who bound his wrists had been thorough. There was no slack to the rope. They were just loose enough not to cut off his circulation, but he hadn't been able to ease them any more than that. They even took his watch, to make sure he didn't have anything hidden in it, probably.
But he had time, and he had patience, and no one was actively watching him for now. So Benton carefully and methodically scanned the room they left him in for anything he could use to cut himself free. If Race or the kids hadn't gotten to him yet, it meant he needed to get himself out and find them first.