KYRIE.
I gulped the last shot of vodka and waited for the burn to do something. Anything. Burn the image out of my skull, cauterize the ache, or dull the humiliation slowly ripping down my ego.
Spoiler alert: it didn't do s**t.
I needed more. A f*****g lobotomy, maybe. Or a blackout.
God.
I had never — never — felt this stripped down in my life. Not even the day I got jumped by three rogue wolves at seventeen because I dared to mouth off at their Alpha. That was physical.
But this?
This was a whole new level of violation.
It wasn't enough that I turned into a stupid mute the moment I saw Eve at the mart, with my tongue halfway to paralyzed. I had to double down on the humiliation by grabbing her arm like some jealous, unhinged boyfriend mid-breakup, when that grinning little s**t c
