CHAPTER 30
MARCO
FRACTURE LINE
The bar was loud tonight. The bass was thumping hard, lights flickering red and violet across sweaty faces, clubbers shouting and singing along to the songs, but none of it could drown out the noise in my head.
My father's voice kept ringing in my head, his threats sleeping into the fibres of my bone every minute. Or that sick laugh he laughed when he noticed I was horrified by his findings.
I hated the fact that he was back to living in my head.
I moved mechanically, grabbing bottles, pouring drinks and sliding glasses across the counter. My muscles remembered the motions even though my mind was miles away.
After my father visited my bar, some of my workers refused to come back and most of them always helped me here at the club. But now, I was almo
