THE dim light of the lounge bar threw long shadows across the leather seats as Adrian slumped into one of them, his shirt collar loosened, a glass of whiskey sitting untouched before him. His friends, Leonard and Jakes, sat opposite, both watching him closely.
Adrian’s face was pale, his eyes carrying the kind of heaviness that no drink could cure. He rubbed his palms together and finally spoke.
“She left,” he said. His voice was hoarse, almost cracked.
Jakes frowned, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table.
“Left? What do you mean, left?”
“Just like that,” Adrian muttered, staring into the amber liquid before him. “I came home and met the house empty. She took Hazel. Took everything that belonged to her. Left me a note on the bed.”
Jakes blinked, stunned.
“Just like that
