Chapter 85

• Darius's POV
• I lounged in my chair, swirling a glass of whiskey in my hand, savoring the calm before the storm. Damon was alive. Alive. That useless excuse of a woman swore he wouldn’t survive his sickness, and yet here he was, prancing around like the Moon Goddess herself kissed his forehead.
• “She lied,” I growled, the whiskey burning down my throat as I slammed the glass onto the table. “She said he’d die, and I let that pack of mutts live because of her.” My lip curled in disgust. “A waste of time and trust. Never again.”