Furious, Damien stormed out of the room and made his way to the bar on the second floor. His steps were heavy, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. He didn't look at anyone as he entered; his presence alone was enough to make conversations die down.
He took a seat at the bar and lifted two fingers in a sharp signal.
"Whiskey," he ordered. "The strongest you have."
The bartender didn't ask questions. Within seconds, a full bottle was placed in front of him along with a glass. Damien didn't bother with the glass. He grabbed the bottle and took a long, burning swallow, welcoming the fire as it tore down his throat.
It didn't calm him. Another drink followed. Then another. No matter how much he drank, Sofia's face stayed in his mind—her rage, her pain, the way she had looked at him like he was something she hated. The word "monster" echoed in his head, over and over again.
