34. My Moth.

JAMES.

[Hours before the confrontation]

“Bar man, I need a refill,” I ordered for more whiskey to be poured into my half empty glass. The bar man obliged, serving me more of the amber liquid into my cup.

I sighed heavily, hanging my head low as the dim lights of the open bar casted a long shadow over the wooden countertop. This was the kind of place that felt both like a refuge and a prison all at once.

I sat there, a glass of whiskey cradled in my hand, the amber liquid a mirror to the turmoil inside me.

I hated that my father had moved Chloe's things into my room without my permission... It was a statement of what he wanted. He wanted GRANDPUPS from this relationship.

I felt frustrated, a gnawing sense of what I had sworn off from.

Suddenly, the door to the bar creaked, and the empty space began to fill up with packmates, the murmur of conversations slowly drowned out my thoughts.

I felt a gentle touch poke my shoulder, I snapped around and caught a glimpse of Britney.

“Britney, hi