Chapter 165

‘Cassian Langford, you fucking arsehole,’ Yvaine howled. ‘You think I’m just some toy you can toss out?’ The crying got louder. Her words turned to noise. She’d been smiling when we left the wedding. Now she was here, alone, red-faced and shaking, drunk enough to collapse in a pitch-black bar. I swallowed the sting in my throat, sat beside her, and stayed quiet. She screamed, sobbed, cursed his name over and over again, and I didn’t interrupt. More than ten minutes later, Yvaine finally ran out of steam. Her voice cracked and gave out mid-curse, and she slumped sideways against the cushions, passed out cold. I called for the server. Between the two of us, we hauled her into the back seat of my car. I ordered a driver and climbed in beside her, gave the guy her address, and told him to keep the heating low; she always overheated when she drank. By the time we got to her house, her head was on my shoulder and her eyeliner had transferred to my sleeve. Getting her up the stairs was a bloo