Killian’s POV
I don’t remember leaving the bar last night, but somehow I made it home and into bed.
That doesn’t mean I escape the consequences of my reckless behavior. My beta, Matthew, tried to talk me into leaving when I started feeling the effects of pouring half a bottle of whiskey into a tumbler and calling it a “light drink,” but I wasn’t in the mood to listen. One drink became three, and soon I hit the oblivion I was chasing—though it feels anything but satisfying now. Part of me is ashamed for setting such a terrible example for my kids, but another part just reminds me that soon I won’t have any kids to influence.
Glancing at the clock, I see it’s already nine a.m., which means I’m officially late for work. Sitting up in bed, the room spins violently, and suddenly working fro
