Liam slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the harsh, sterile light of the hospital room. The ceiling above him was a stark white, almost blinding in its brightness. The steady beep of a heart monitor punctuated the stillness, each beep a reminder that he was alive—barely. The scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, mixing with the faint odor of sweat and fear.
He groaned softly, wincing as he tried to shift in bed. Every movement sent sharp jolts of pain through his body, but it was a dull ache compared to what he'd endured the night before.
"W-What the hell…?" Liam whispered, his voice raspy as if it hadn't been used in days. He struggled to sit up, the thin hospital gown clinging to his damp skin. His mind raced as fragments of the previous night flooded back—Jin Wei's cold eyes, Jimmy's terrified face, the overwhelming pain of defeat.