A drop of blood fell onto the floor.
Then a groan.
Monique stirred weakly, lying on her side in the pool of wine and dried blood, a security agent kneeling beside her, one hand supporting the back of her neck.
"Ma'am? Ma'am, can you hear me?"
She blinked several times, the entire room slowly spinning around her, blurry, doubled. She didn't even recognize the person in front of her right away, her foggy brain trying to put the pieces back together—where she was, what had just happened, why her head hurt so badly.
"You took a hit, Ma'am," the agent said, gently helping her sit up against the base of the desk. "Stay still for a second."
"What—" Her voice came out rough, thick, almost unrecognizable. She brought a trembling hand to her temple, feeling the crust of blood stuck in her hair, a throbbing pain hammering her skull with every heartbeat. "What happened."
"We don't know exactly, Ma'am. We found you like this."
