Chapter 172 Mark's POV"Hey bartender, another drink!" I slammed my glass on the counter, the sound sharp enough to turn heads.
And it did.
The barman, a wiry guy with salt in his beard, sighed like he'd seen this movie too many times. "Sir, you've had enough."
I shot him a glare, my voice rising. "And how is that any of your fucking business?"
He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. "It's my business when a drunk breaks my bottles and can't pay for them."
""Then I'll buy every damn bottle in this place," I snarled, slamming a few crumpled notes on the counter. "Now pour."
He hesitated, hiseyes flicking to the money, then to my face, and decided silence was safer. The bottle tilted. It's gold liquid streamed into my glass, glinting under the dim lights like sin itself.
I lifted it, downed it in one gulp. It burned like acid down my throat.
Good. The burn was the only thing I still felt.
