Chapter 67: Daryl’s POV
The bottle in my hand was already half-empty, and the bitter burn of whiskey clung to my throat as if it wanted to carve its way down and make a permanent home inside my chest.
I tipped it back again, even though the taste had long since turned to ash on my tongue. The room shifted around me, swaying with uneven lines, the shadows bending too far. Firelight flickered across the stone walls, mocking me with every movement, as if it wanted to remind me of everything I had once believed in and everything I had lost.
Ciara’s face haunted me in every reflection. I saw her in the shimmer of spilled liquor, in the distorted glass of the bottle, in the fractured shine of my own eyes staring back at me. I saw her when she glared at me with defiance, when she rejected Damo
