Chapter 3
Dawn hadn’t quite broken when Hunter slid out of Raven’s bed without waking him.
Shame stabbed him like a physical thing. He had binged again. Despite knowing its dangers, he’d done it again. He seldom drank, but when times were hard and desperation grabbed him he wasted his money on whiskey and drank himself into oblivion. This morning he felt like hellfire even though he’d been aware yesterday—when he took that first swig of the amber liquid from the bottle with the black label and fancy white lettering—that this was how he’d feel. He’d known then the binge would leave him dizzy, weak, his stomach burning, head pounding, a terrible taste in his mouth and the idea that all he needed to feel better was another drink.
He breathed into his hands, gagging when he smelled his foul
