Third person’s POV
By the time the third bottle hit the table with a dull thud, Kade was already slipping past the edge of consciousness. His head hung low, shoulders hunched, breath uneven. The bar lights blurred into streaks of red and blue, shadows smearing across the wooden counter as if the room couldn’t quite hold still around him.
His companions were half friends and half parasites who enjoyed being close to the Hayes heir, watched him with growing unease.
“Damn,” one muttered, leaning closer, “he’s already gone.”
“Guy’s drinking like he’s trying to drown himself,” another whispered.
“Yeah,” the first replied, scratching the back of his neck, “and honestly? He might succeed.”
They weren’t wrong. Kade’s eyes were glassy, unfocused. Every time he tried to lift the
