Axle's POV
The whiskey glass dangled loosely from my fingers, empty for hours now. My knuckles were white from the way I clutched it, as if I held it long enough, it might offer absolution. But it didn't. Nothing would. Not after last night.
Katty's photograph lay face down on the desk.
I couldn't look her in the eyes after what I've done.
The room smelled of stale liquor and regret. Shadows clung to the corners even as dawn crept through the curtains, faint and silver. I hadn't bothered changing out of the tuxedo. My bow tie hung undone around my neck, the top buttons of my shirt open, sleeves rolled up to my forearms like I'd started to undress and just… stopped.
There was a hollow ringing in my skull from too much thinking and not enough silence. Or maybe it was the oth
