41. Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-One

Anna

P eople toting cameras bigger than my torso line the street, their vans and tinted cars taking up the majority of the parking, including stopping in the middle of the road.

Lights dance across the night sky, each flash attempting to catch a crazed rock star in the act, the moment that it happens.

This is a whole freaking mess.

I would have been here a few minutes earlier, if it wasn't for throwing up.

This can't be. Not already.

The denial is the only thing keeping my feet moving as I slink passed the lenses as big as my head and sneak down the alley to the back of the bar Toby's known to frequent.

I've been here before.

Too many times have I gotten the same call, and yet this one stings so bad that I'm sick over it. After all the work he did at the cabin, talking about his demon, and asking for the help.

All the days he spent without taking a single drop.

Kicking the withdrawals so quickly …

Did he just use me to forget?

Shivering from more than just the cold, I hug my coat closer and prepare to pound a fist against the metal in hopes of being heard over the thumping music echoing from inside.

Was he even sober?

The thought jars me, freezing me in my spot with my hand lifted, and I blink the burn of tears threatening my eyes.

"Anna? I've been trying to call you." When did Denver open the door? "He took off. I didn't want to draw attention, so I didn't watch where he went."

My head hangs, and my fist falls limp at my side.

"I'm so sorry about this, Denver," I breathe because anything else feels like it'll just push me over the edge of the pending breakdown. "How bad was it?"

The man's feet shuffle in my line of sight, his hesitance drawing my attention to his pinched brow and knowing eyes. "Bad, Anna. He was real bad."

"Thanks for calling me."

"Listen," Denver says and holds out a hand to stop me from advancing, "I'd send someone with you, but my guys are barely keeping the door up. Do you want me to call someone?"

Sighing, my shoulders pitched inward, I nod. "Give Lugh a heads up, please. I have a feeling I'm going to need the hand."

"Sure thing." Denver steps away from me, his body half inside his bar before he speaks again. "I would check the liquor store just two blocks down."

Again, I nod, my voice quaking before it even rises up my throat to form the words that come out next. "If you see him again, Den, call the cops."

I don't know what else to do.

He nods solemnly, his clean-shaven jaw ticking with the severity. "Yes, ma'am."

I don't wait for him to go back inside before I move down the street and locate the store he'd mentioned.

I'm not even to the front of the barred windows and I know he's here.

Because all I hear is yelling … glass shattering …

And I'm angry. Vibrating with the lead in my veins as my rage flows easily through my system.

The storefront is lined with more cameras. Phones and tablets aimed at the chaos going on inside.

There's no way out of this now.

So I run in, headfirst.

And what I find, amidst the chaos of destroyed bottles and tipped over displays, is the last thing I ever wanted to see.