DAMON'S POV
The night tasted like whiskey and regret.
I could still feel the sting of Aiden’s punches, the sharp, searing pain of my busted lip, but none of it compared to the rage simmering beneath my skin. I was drunk, pissed off, and dangerously close to losing my grip on reality.
Aiden and Cheryl.
The image burned in my mind—her lips on his, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her in like she belonged to him.
I let out a bitter laugh as I stumbled out of my car, nearly slipping on the gravel of my driveway. The motion sensor lights flickered on, casting long shadows against the pavement. My own shadow stretched before me—twisted, distorted, fractured.
Much like myself.
I reached into my pocket, fingers brushing against my house key. The small object suddenly felt impossibly di
