The metallic tang of blood coated Grayson's tongue. His neck throbbed with a dull heat.
Another wave hit.
Grayson's fingers curled against the cold floor, nails scraping against reinforced alloy as his vision turned into jagged pieces. The faces of the star pirates guarding him from afar were warping into grotesque caricatures.
He could feel his mind deteriorating. Whether it was because of his injuries or from the back of his neck, he couldn't pinpoint exactly.
Breathe.
He thought, anchoring himself to the sensation of cold metal beneath his palms. The riot in his head was getting worse. Each passing minute brought fresh waves of pain that forced him to remember things he didn't remember doing.
He kissed Neville?
He flirted with him?
He had such thoughts towards him?
Just as he was going to dismiss these thoughts as nonsense, he heard footsteps coming towards him.
"—gonna fetch a pretty good price for this." A grave voice cut through the static.
