Chapter 192: Chapter 192

Elijah

The bottle was already half empty when Tyler found me.

I'd made it to the garage, to the old storage room at the back where the man who fathered me kept his vintage collection. Rows of expensive whiskey and scotch lined the shelves, bottles worth thousands gathering dust because Alpha Alaric preferred to hoard rather than drink.

He wouldn't miss one bottle.

Or five.

I took another swig, the liquid burning down my throat.

The burn was good. It helped drown out the memory of Violet's face as it shattered, helped muffle the echo of her footsteps as she ran.

I raised the bottle to my lips again which was nearly empty now. It was pathetic how quickly I could drain it.

"Elijah."

Tyler's voice came from the doorway. It was cautious and concerned like he was approaching a wounded animal that might lash out.

I didn't acknowledge him and simply finished the bottle and reached for another, my fingers fumbling with the seal.

"Maybe you should slow down," Tyler suggested, stepping into the room. "You've been drinking pretty heavily and…"

The bottle slipped from my grip, crashing to the hard floor. Glass exploded outward, whiskey spreading in a dark pool. I stared at it, watching the liquid seep into the cracks in the concrete.

Funnily enough, it reminded me of the blood on the floor of Father's office last night.

I grabbed another bottle, got the seal off this time and took a long swig.

"Elijah, talk to me," Tyler said, moving closer. "What happened in there? What Nicole said about…"

"Don't." The word came out harsh, sharp enough to cut. "Don't say her name. Don't fucking talk about it."

Tyler held up his hands in surrender. "Okay. But you need to calm down before you…"

I hurled the bottle at the wall. It shattered with a satisfying crash, glass raining down like deadly confetti. The sound felt good because it mirrored the destruction inside my chest.

My hand caught on a piece of glass embedded in the wall. Blood welled up, running down my palm in thin red lines. I watched it drip onto the concrete, joining the whiskey.

It didn't matter and neither did it hurt. Nothing hurt more than seeing Violet run.

I’d lost her and it was true.

I'd seen the hope in Violet's eyes every time she looked at me, in the way she'd touched my face this morning, worried about my injuries.

And I had kissed her like my life depended on it.

I should have seen it coming, seen Nicole’s plan but it was in the past now.

I lost Violet because of my own fucking stupidity, because I'd been a coward who couldn't tell her the truth about Nicole, about how it started, about the bet I'd made when I was drunk and angry and trying to forget how Nicole had trapped me in an engagement I never wanted.

The bet I'd abandoned the second I actually met Violet. The second I saw her smile.

But she'd never believe that now.

My phone buzzed. I pulled it out, blood smearing across the screen.

Cassie: I'll drop her home.

The mere mention of her carrying it all alone hit me like a freight train.

Violet was going home. Away from this place and away from me.

My fingers moved without conscious thought, typing out a response.

Me: Take the train or bus. She gets airsick.

The detail felt important somehow. It was almost as if I could still take care of her in small ways, still protect her even from minor discomforts, then maybe I hadn't completely destroyed everything.

I stared at the message after I sent it, knowing Violet would never speak to me again.

She wouldn’t answer my calls or read my texts now. Because if I did, she would never give me the chance to explain that yes, it started as a bet, but it became real so fucking fast I couldn't remember the moment I stopped pretending.

I grabbed the keys to my car from where I'd thrown them on the work bench. The metal was cold against my bleeding palm.

"Whoa, hey," Tyler said, stepping forward. "You're not driving. Not like this. You've been drinking and you're clearly not…"

"Get out of my way." My voice came out flat, dead.

"Elijah, be reasonable. Let me drive. Or Gavin. We'll take you wherever you need to go, but you can't just leave in such a condition."

"I said move."

Tyler didn't move but behind him, Gavin appeared in the doorway, taking in all of the ruckus I’d caused including the broken bottles, the blood, me gripping the car keys like a weapon.

"Let us drive," Gavin said carefully. "You're in no condition to be behind the wheel."