CHAPTER THIRTYTHE STORM BENEATH
The city skyline bled streaks of orange and gold as the sun disappeared behind looming storm clouds. Damien stood by the wide office windows of Ashe & Locke’s executive floor, his jacket discarded, sleeves rolled, and a half-empty tumbler of whiskey in his hand. His tie hung loose around his neck, the reflection in the glass as disheveled as the storm brewing behind his eyes. The glass of whiskey in Damien Locke’s hand sloshed dangerously close to the rim as he tilted it, eyes glazed, his body slouched deep into the leather couch of his office. The skyline of the city blurred beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows as the first drops of rain began to streak the glass. He hadn’t turned on the lights. Darkness suited his mood. The dinner with his father had been a disaster. The family dinner
- Writer
