The next morning, sunlight spilled through the wide glass windows of Jake's penthouse, slicing across the bed in golden bands. The brightness was sharp, enough to wake Jake up from the deep slumber the sedative had sent him in.
Jake stirred, groaning softly as his eyes fluttered open. His head throbbed painfully— a dull, pounding ache that seemed to start behind his eyes and settle at the base of his skull. He winced, pressing a hand against his temple.
Everything felt… off.
His mouth was dry, his throat parched. His body felt heavy, as if he'd run a marathon in his sleep. For a moment, he simply lay there, staring at the ceiling and trying to piece together how he'd gotten home and in his bed, just in shorts.
The last thing he remembered was meeting Raymond.
They'd been at the lounge. Raymond had called, sounding distraught. Jake remembered the call — the panic in his brother's voice, the way he'd said he needed him and how he'd asked him to join him at the lounge.
