It Ends With Me

**ROMANY**

The moment the words are out of my mouth I regret them. Not because they aren't true, and not because they might push him into murdering Antony, but because the last thing I want him to do is go back to where we were. Back to the path of destruction he was on *after* the incident. When he was ignoring me...when he couldn't look at me. It was torture.

I cringe at myself, freezing with Alex at my back and my feet three tiny steps from the door. Taking a deep breath I scan the floor, looking for the one thing that might make the rest of this afternoon a little easier. I spy it to the left of me, in front of the coffee table and pick it up without another thought. There's only about a quarter of it left and as I turn back around I twist off the cap.

I don't know what I expected to see when I turned around, but it certainly wasn't Alex with his gun in his hand, tapping the damn thing on his thigh like he was counting down the seconds I had left alive. My eyes are glued to the motion as I stand there, the light tapping of the cold piece of steel in his hand against his leg. Without looking up into his eyes, I keep my gaze trained on his weapon while I pour a good deal of his whiskey down my throat.

magnificent ridges of his bare chest. Finally, I trek up the iron

suddenly swims with the amber liquid that

face. I step around the table carefully, the meager buzz

I snort rudely, then bring the bottle back up to my mouth and down the rest of

the empty bottle into his lap directly over

the hit was right on target. Now though, he looks at

matters, but yeah, I do. It's because you're a

but despite what the others may have told you,

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