Alaric poured another glass of scotch and downed it in a single swig.
He knew he shouldn't be drinking just yet, but he couldn't help it. He needed something to feast on the anger reeling in his chest—to consume it before he exploded from just reaching for it.
"Drinking won't solve this," Richard said softly as he sat on the couch.
Alaric's fingers tightened slowly around the glass as he walked over to his desk and poured himself another glass.
He paced around his study, trying to steady the chill that lurked in his chest.
His anger was a combination of many things, but Ronald Voss's threat sat over it all. He pulled out his phone, allowing his finger to linger on the unlock button before finally unlocking it.
He played the video again and again, watching as his own face lit up with mischief.
There was no way around it. That was him.
There was no lie he could fabricate, once the mess got out, everybody would know it was him.
His face was too fucking visible.
