Twenty seven

Zane’s POV

The club was dimly lit, with the bass from the music vibrating through the floor. I could barely hear myself think, which was exactly how I wanted it. I downed another shot of whiskey, the burn in my throat a welcome distraction from the turmoil in my mind. I’d been nursing drinks all night, hoping to drown out the thoughts of Belle that kept creeping back no matter how hard I tried to shove them the hell down.

“Woah, woah, woah. Take it easy, bro,” Fletcher said, leaning over the table, his brow furrowed in concern. He watched as I poured myself another drink, clearly not impressed with my current state. “We didn’t come here to watch you drink yourself into a stupor. We came here for something else.”

I looked up at him, forcing a smile that I knew didn’t reach my eyes. “Of course, that’s why I’m here,” I replied, trying to act normal, like I hadn’t just spent the past several hours drowning my thoughts in liquor. But I could tell from the way Fletcher was watching me that