Cold. That was Liam's first conscious thought as awareness seeped back into his body. A bone-deep chill that made his muscles ache and his teeth want to chatter. The second realization came more slowly: the rigid discomfort of his posture, wrists bound behind him, shoulders strained against their sockets.
He kept his eyes closed, forcing his breathing to remain even as he assessed his situation. The air smelled different—not the hotel's subtle blend of eucalyptus and citrus, but something colder, more sterile. Faint mechanical hums vibrated through whatever surface he was sitting on.
"I know you're awake, Mr. Campbell."
David Harrison's voice, closer than expected. Liam opened his eyes.
