CHAPTER 198: CHAPTER 198 DRUNK

"Another," Leonorado said flatly, his deep voice carrying over the hum of music as he tipped back yet another glass of whiskey.

Casper and Zion exchanged a glance across the table, both silently counting how many he’d had now. It wasn’t just a drink or two—Leo had been knocking back glass after glass, draining the bottle like it was water. Alan wasn’t here tonight, which meant it was just the three of them in this dimly lit VIP corner, and neither Casper nor Zion could figure out what had gotten into him.

"What’s wrong with him?" Zion muttered under his breath, leaning slightly toward Casper.

Casper was about to reply when a manicured hand slid into view, a single finger tracing lazily along his cheek. He turned his head, grinning instantly when he saw a gorgeous woman in a barely-there dress. Without hesitation, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his lap, earning a soft giggle from her as she looped her arms around his neck.

Zion rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. "You’re impossible," he muttered, not even bothering to hide his exasperation. At this point, Casper’s playboy behavior was practically a routine.

Meanwhile, Leo poured himself another half glass—no, not a half, a full—and downed it without a flinch. The amber liquid caught the low light, swirling briefly before disappearing down his throat. He didn’t even wince.

Zion started wondering if maybe he was drunk. Leo was leaning back on the couch now, head tilted slightly to the side, eyes closed. His long fingers rested lazily on the armrest, the rolled sleeves of his black shirt showing the sharp cut of his forearms.

A woman in a short glittering dress approached, her heels clicking against the polished floor. Her face lit up when she spotted Leo. She made a beeline for him, swaying her hips with practiced allure but just as she reached out to touch his arm, Leo’s hand lifted, palm out, eyes still closed.

"Not interested," he said coolly without even looking at her.

Her smile froze, and after a sharp roll of her eyes, she spun away in search of someone else to entertain her.

Zion exhaled. "We should call Jay," he said to Casper, who was currently laughing at something the woman in his lap had whispered in his ear.

Casper pulled back with lipstick smeared along his jawline and shrugged. "Sure."

Zion picked up his phone and dialed.

"Hello, Jay—it’s Zion," he began.

A soft voice answered instead. "I’m Bella. Jay’s sleeping."

Earlier, Jay had fallen asleep, and Jace had carried him to his room. Bella had been downstairs when she noticed Jay’s phone ringing. Glancing at the screen, she had seen Zion’s name and picked it up.

Zion blinked. "Sister-in-law?" he said before he could stop himself.

Bella froze on the other end, heat rushing to her cheeks. Sister-in-law? She didn’t know whether to correct him or... pretend she didn’t hear it.

"Actually," Zion continued, "I called because Leo’s very drunk. Can you come pick him up? I’ll send you the address. He drove himself here, and he’s in no state to drive back."

"Okay," Bella said quickly, already pulling the phone from her ear to check for the incoming message.

Within seconds, she received the address. She saved it in her own phone, along with Zion’s number, before hurrying upstairs. She changed into something presentable but still soft and pretty—she knew bars had their own unspoken dress code, and she didn’t want to stand out for the wrong reason.

A few minutes later, she was in the back seat of the car, giving her driver instructions to take her to the location. The night lights of the city blurred past, her hands resting on her lap as she tried not to wonder why Leo had been drinking so much.

When she arrived, the guards at the entrance instantly recognized her from the last time she’d come with Leo. They let her through without asking for an ID, and she stepped into the dim, pulsing interior. Music throbbed in the air, lights flashing in blues and purples over the crowd.

She moved forward cautiously, scanning for him, but the maze of tables and bodies swallowed her up. She realized she had no idea where exactly the VIP section was.

Pulling out her phone, she called Zion.

"Hello? Who’s this?" Zion’s voice came through.

"It’s Bella. I’m here," she said over the noise.

"Stay where you are. I’ll come get you."

She hung up and stood to the side, her eyes taking in the dance floor—people laughing, glasses clinking, bodies moving under the haze of light and shadow.

Meanwhile, Zion glanced over his shoulder at Casper, who now had the woman in his lap practically draped over him. "Behave. Bella’s on her way up here."

Casper groaned dramatically but released the woman, who pouted before slipping away into the crowd. "You ruin all my fun," he muttered.

Zion just rolled his eyes and started making his way toward the entrance to find her.

Bella had only worn a simple black dress, cinched at the waist with a delicate band of fabric flowers. Her sandals clicked softly against the polished floor as she walked, the faint sway of her skirt brushing her knees. Her hair was left open, tumbling freely down her back, and she hadn’t bothered with makeup—just a layer of moisturizer and a swipe of lip balm. Even so, the soft glow of her skin and the easy grace in her walk drew more than a few glances.

She tried not to notice when a group of college boys nearby exchanged looks and one of them stepped forward, grinning nervously. "Hey... are you here alone? Maybe we could—"

"Bella."

The deep, cool voice cut through the noise like a blade. Zion appeared beside her, his tall frame blocking the boy’s view. His eyes narrowed into something sharp and dangerous, and in an instant, the college boy’s smile vanished. Without another word, he and his friends backed away into the crowd, muttering to each other.

Bella let out a quiet sigh of relief. "Thank you, Zion."

He simply gave a small nod, his expression unreadable, before motioning for her to follow. "Come on. He’s in the VIP section."

The bar seemed even louder as they weaved through clusters of people, neon lights casting shifting patterns on the walls. The moment they reached the roped-off corner, the atmosphere changed—it was quieter here, the air tinged with the rich scent of whiskey and expensive cologne.