Cory's POV
"Five hard shots now!" I command, feeling the throbbing pain in my jawline intensify with even the slightest movement. My face and ribs feel like they're on fire. Whoever that man was, he knew how to throw a punch.
But what piqued my interest was that he was defending Zara. What was their connection?
"Here's your drink." The bartender slides the tiny glass cups in front of me and then swiftly moves on to other customers.
I grab the first glass and down its contents in one smooth motion, savoring the warmth spreading through my chest.
"Damn, man! Who took you out like that? Whoever it was deserves a reward—you can be a real prick sometimes, you know," a familiar voice chimes in with a laugh as a tipsy acquaintance takes a seat beside me.
I glance at him, unimpressed. "Dre, I don't have the energy for your nonsense right now," I say flatly, reaching for a second glass and finishing it off, relishing the familiar burn.
