Damon's POV

I stared at the half-empty glass in my hand like it had all the answers.

The burn of the whiskey hit the back of my throat, but it did nothing to quiet the storm in my chest.

Why?

Why would she do that?

Emma. The same girl who kissed me like I was her world... who looked at me like I wasn't broken. Like I mattered.

Now, she was gone. Just like that.

I leaned forward on the couch, elbows resting on my knees, my fingers tightening around the glass until my knuckles turned white. My ...