Chapter 45: Jaxon’s POV

The bottle was almost empty.

Its contents burned like hot steel at the back of my throat, bitter enough to make me forget or at least try to.

The morning light slipped through the cracks of the drawn curtains, dull and colorless, cutting through the room like a blade. My jacket hung off the chair, wrinkled from where I’d tossed it last night. The scent of spilled liquor lingered with the sourness of regret.

I’d locked the door before dawn, not because I feared ...