The sedative worked faster than Gabriel expected.
His vision blurred, the safe house ceiling swimming in and out of focus. He tried to keep his eyes open, but his eyelids felt weighted with lead.
"Stop fighting it," Mera said from far away. "You'll only make it worse."
Gabriel's jaw clenched. His muscles were already going slack, his body betraying him one limb at a time.
The darkness crept in.
His fingers twitched, attempting to curl into fists that failed halfway through. The room tilted, steadied, then tilted again.
Faces appeared above him. Tess. Gilbert. Adan.
"He's almost under," someone said.
His eyes closed. He forced them open again.
Stay conscious. Stay—
The thought dissolved.
His last awareness was of hands on his shoulders, lifting him. Then nothing.
…
When sensation returned, it came in fragments.
Cold cloth against his skin. The smell of linen and something medicinal. Pressure around his torso, arms, legs.
Gabriel tried to move. His body didn't respond.
