Doman’s POV

I slammed the door so hard the frame rattled behind me. My chest burned with anger, betrayal, and something I refused to name twisting inside me.

When I finally reached home, I kicked the door open and went straight to the bar.

I poured whiskey into a glass but didn’t bother sitting. The burn was harsh and clean, like fire through a wound.

In the mirror across the room, I caught my reflection. Blood streaked across my jaw. My knuckles were split, raw. I could still see ...