Oh, for f***s sake, it feels like the silence in this damn room is deafening, amplifying every stupid decision I’ve ever made.
The reek of stale whiskey hangs heavy in the air of my bed chambers, a fitting aroma for the mess I’ve become.
The room is dim, the heavy curtains drawn against the unwanted intrusion of daylight. My head throbs with a dull, persistent ache, a constant reminder of the poison I’ve been pouring down my throat.
Zara, along with her perfume, is gone.
Off playing Alpha, attending to the damn duties that should be mine. With my mother and Lior, I guess.
How fitting, isn't it?
The irony isn’t lost on me. The new power trio.
Cyan remains stubbornly silent, refusing to surface, the stubborn bastard.
Probably disgusted with me and by me. I don’t blame him.
Lone
