Kiel
I groaned, dragging my hands down my face as I struggled to heave Varen's dead weight through the back door of the pack house. He reeked of whiskey, his steps stumbling, his head lolled against my shoulder.
"Damn it, brother," I muttered under my breath. "You couldn't just drink a little, could you? No—you had to drink yourself into oblivion."
His incoherent mumble was my only answer, his body slumping heavier against me. I clenched my jaw and adjusted my grip, half-carrying, half-dragging him down the hall. If anyone saw him like this, the calm, collected Alpha would lose face. My brother deserved more dignity than whispers of drunken weakness trailing after him.
"Almost there," I muttered, shoving open the door to his room with my foot. With one final effort, I dropped him onto his bed. He groaned but didn't stir. Out cold.
I stood there a moment, chest heaving, sweat dampening the back of my neck. The smell of alcohol clung to me now, thick and nauseating.