The adrenaline that dulled the pain slowly dissipated, and he could feel the back of his skull pressing against his brain as he tried to get up.
Liam groaned as his hands pushed against the crushed chandelier on the floor.
The harder he tried to rise, the deeper the shards of glass cut through his fatty palms.
He could hear Jorvik talking in the background, but it all sounded muffled—as if the sound of his pulsing brain filled his ears.
Then a strange warmth eased the pain a bit.
He wasn't sure if the warmth on his temple was sweat or blood.
His thoughts moved like sludge.
There was no clarity.
He tried thinking, but whatever plans he came up with just seemed to appear and vanish.
Get up.
He repeated to himself, trying to remember this one thing.
But his body didn't listen.
He pushed his palm to the floor and tried to lift himself.
But the wooden floor panels felt like they were trying to suck him down.
