Matthew sat slouched over, his back against the cold concrete wall, the floor underneath him harsh and relentless. His chest hurled with each breath as he worked through the torment of his wounds, clumsily squeezing a cloth against the cut on his cheek. Blood, warm and sticky, streamed from the wound, blending with the sweat trickling down his face. His head throbbed savagely, each pulse beating behind his eyes, reminding him of the blows he'd taken within the fight.
Haven had continuously been a solid man, but Matthew hadn't expected the sheer constrain behind those clench hands. The sharp tang of press filled his nose as he wiped more blood from his mouth, his fingers shaking, and a wave of uneasiness rolled over him. His stomach churned, but he groaned in pain, attempting to battle
