Killian’s Pov
I lost count after the fifth glass.
Whiskey burned its way down my throat, warm and reckless. The bitter edge was comforting and too familiar, like the storm in my chest. My mother’s words wouldn’t leave my head. Her voice, her insistence.
“You love her, Killian.”
No, I wasn’t supposed to. I told myself that again. And again. And again. But it wasn’t working. Not anymore.
Because I was. Falling. And I hated it.
Hated how she took up space in my head. Hated how she made me feel things I swore I buried long ago. And more than anything, I hated the thought of needing her.
And then, just when I thought I’d finally drown her memory with another pour, there was a knock.
And like the devil hearing her name, she appeared.
Lilith.
She stepped in slowly, like she wasn’t sure
