I Am His Wolfless Luna Chapter 117

Ethan's POV

After leaving Aria's apartment, I drove straight to that rundown bar on the edge of the territory. Rage boiled inside me like molten lava, and I needed some way to quell it before it consumed me entirely. Perhaps not the healthiest coping mechanism, but better than finding an underground fight club and beating someone to a bloody pulp.

A flickering neon sign caught my attention, and I pulled into the dusty parking lot, navigating around a row of beat-up cars and a few gleaming motorcycles before pushing open the heavy front door.

The bar was packed with rough-looking werewolves, mostly lone wolves or members of smaller packs who preferred to keep to themselves. A massive bar counter occupied one wall, with high tables and pool tables scattered throughout. An ancient jukebox blared some kind of rock music, adding a dangerous edge to the atmosphere.

"What'll it be?" grunted the older, hard-looking man behind the bar. I nodded at him, my jaw clenched so tight I could feel the muscle pulsing beneath my skin.

"Something strong. Whatever gets me drunk fastest," I replied with a bitter smile, fishing my car keys from my pocket and dropping them heavily onto the bar. The bartender nodded in understanding, reaching for an unmarked bottle from the shelf behind him. He set up five shot glasses in front of me and filled each one to the brim. I grinned mirthlessly before downing them one after another. It was some kind of cheap whiskey, but that didn't matter. The burning sensation in my throat and the warmth spreading from my stomach was exactly what I needed to thaw the cold numbness in my heart. I looked up at the bartender, tapping my index finger against the counter. "Again."

He studied me warily for a moment, then shrugged and poured another round. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see Leo's name flashing on the screen. I hit ignore. I couldn't deal with any of this shit right now. All I wanted was to get blackout drunk and worry about everything else tomorrow. The image of Aria and Leo kissing burned in my mind, and I tapped the counter again. "More."

Time became a blur, and at some point, I was pretty sure my cheek was pressed against the cool surface of the bar. I'd lost count of how many shots I'd had, and I was still nursing some kind of whiskey in my hand. Leo called again, and I watched as my phone rang until it went to voicemail. I didn't even feel angry at him. Hell, I didn't hate Aria either. I hated myself. I always fucked everything up. I forced my head up, ignoring the way the room spun around me, and knocked back what was left in my glass. I was so numb to everything by this point that I could barely feel the burn of the alcohol.

I raised my hand, slurring, "Another."

The bartender, now just a blur in my vision, shook his head. "No, I think you've had enough."

I growled at him, low and threatening. "I'll... decide... when... I've had... enough."

"Yeah, buddy. You can barely string a sentence together. I'd say that's enough liquid courage to drown whatever heartache you're nursing," his figure gradually came into focus enough for me to realize he was holding my phone. "Or maybe it's this Leo character blowing up your phone? Eighteen missed calls—either you're avoiding the mob or someone's really desperate to reach you."

"Leo's... jus' my friend," I mumbled, running my tongue over my teeth which felt oddly numb. I couldn't summon the energy to explain the tangled mess my life had become—how I'd just watched my best friend lock lips with the woman who'd somehow become my entire world.

"Come again? Couldn't catch that over the sound of your liver crying for help," the bartender leaned closer, his weathered face crinkled with genuine concern beneath his gruff exterior.

"Friend... he's my friend," I tried again, but the words tumbled out like marbles rolling around my mouth, incomprehensible even to my own ears.

"Your friend, got it. That makes things easier." The bartender moved away with my phone, his voice fading in and out as I struggled to focus. "Yeah, hi—your buddy here is attempting to drink my entire inventory. Man's so hammered he could fall through the floor... No, he's not driving anywhere except maybe to the hospital if he tries another shot... Address? Sure, hang on."

The bartender slid my phone back across the counter, and I gazed at it through the fog of alcohol clouding my vision. Suddenly, with crystal clarity that seemed impossible given my state, I knew exactly who I needed to talk to. Time stretched like taffy as I summoned every ounce of concentration to navigate my phone, my fingers feeling thick and clumsy as I scrolled until Aria's name appeared on screen. Before my last functioning brain cell could object, I pressed call. Each ring echoed in my ear like a distant church bell, until finally her voicemail greeting cut through.

I took a ragged breath when the beep sounded, and words I'd kept locked inside came pouring out in a slurred, desperate confession: "Aria... God, I've made such a mess of things. Seeing you with Leo... it broke something in me. I couldn't... I can't... That wasn't even me talking back there, it was this... this monster of jealousy I didn't know lived inside me. And Emma—that whole disaster—I was completely wasted. Couldn't tell up from down, let alone who was in my bed. I've never wanted her. It's always been you, Aria. Always. Since that first day when you glared at me, I fell for you then and I never stopped. I love you. Shit, I love you so much it physically hurts."

A firm hand clasped my shoulder, and I lazily rotated my head to find multiple swaying images of Leo hovering above me. His normally perfectly styled hair looked disheveled, as if he'd rushed out without a second thought. "Found you at last."

Leo's eyes traveled across the battlefield of empty glasses littering the counter, his expression a mixture of concern and resignation. "Come on, Alpha. Time to get you somewhere horizontal before you become one with that bar stool."

"Why... why'd you leave her?" The question bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me, my tongue tripping over the syllables. I wasn't entirely sure if actual sounds were coming out of my mouth anymore.

My wavering friend's lips quirked into a sad half-smile. The room started spinning violently. Through the darkness closing in, I heard him say, "Because she was never mine to begin with."

"She's my..." I whispered, gravity winning as my cheek made contact with the cool surface of the bar. Consciousness began slipping through my fingers like sand. "my everything..."