Zane’s POV

The taste of bourbon burned my throat harder than Elora’s words did, but I welcomed it anyway. It was better to have a drink sting than have Elora’s voice linger in my head any longer. 

I couldn’t stop drinking. The strong liquid was the only thing numbing the terror tearing through my chest like shattered glass. It was barely noon, but the bottle on my office desk was almost empty, just like how I was on the inside.

I sat carefree in my chair, tie loosened like one who ...