59. One Text
Zander
The bottle in my hand was almost empty again. I stared at the cheap whiskey, watching the last inch of amber liquid swirl as I tilted it. Another night in the dingy garage I had turned into my makeshift home. Another night of the same cycle; drink, think about Mara, drink some more, try not to drive straight to Marcus’s place and kick the door down.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
A month of silence. A month of her walking away without looking back. A month of wondering if she was okay, if she was eating, if she was as broken as I was. The raids on the Jackals had kept me busy, kept the rage burning, but they hadn’t filled the hole she left behind. If anything, they had made everything more dangerous.
I knew the Jackals were watching. I knew they were coming for blood
