Liam lay flat on his back, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling of his room. A soft glow from the wall lamp painted the space in a dull warmth. His right hand, now wrapped snugly in a bandage, rested across his chest.
Lilith had insisted he go to the hospital after what happened in the restaurant. He wasn't too keen on the idea, but she'd given him that look—the one that meant "you don't have a choice." So, he went. Turned out the wood from the broken chair had pierced deeper than he realized. It hadn't felt like much at the time—he was too full of adrenaline and fury—but it bled badly. The doctor said he was lucky it didn't do worse damage.
Still, Liam wasn't worried.
With his system-enhanced recovery, he knew the wound would be gone by tomorrow morning. It was just a matter of resting up.
He was just about to close his eyes when a soft knock echoed on his door.
He sighed.
Again?
