Alaric Storm was having a bad day.
It had started the moment he woke up only to discover that Violet was missing from his side. She had left him for Asher. Then, to make matters worse, he nearly brought down their dilapidated rogue shack with a series of weird, borderline tragic incidents.
Alaric had blamed it on poor infrastructure, nothing more. He didn't think too much of it and left, brushing the whole thing off.
But the moment he trudged through his front door, his mood already sour from the morning's misadventures, that was when he realized the worst of the worst had only been lying in wait.
Alaric Storm didn't know how it happened. One moment he was storming into the bathroom, the next—WHACK. He stubbed his toe hard on the threshold, the sharp, jarring pain shooting up his leg. He winced and clutched at the wall with a snarl.
What the fuck was all this bad luck today?!