Reynold’s POV
The music blared through the club, a pulsing beat that grated against my skull. It wasn’t what I needed—hell, nothing was—but I had nowhere else to go. This place, loud and dim, was the only distraction I could find. I tipped back a glass of whiskey, letting the burn wash away the image of Daphne in Miles’ arms. Again.
I clenched my jaw.
No matter what I did, the universe seemed determined to mock me. Every scheme I set in motion to break them apart only came back to slap me in the face. And when fate finally handed me the perfect chance—the moment Miles was on the brink of death—I froze. I could’ve walked away. Pretended I didn’t recognize him. But I didn’t. I stayed. I drove him to the damn hospital.
Some twisted part of me couldn’t let him die.
“I guess my hatred disa
