Wrecking Ball.

London: Something was wrong; I could feel it. I was exceptionally angsty, anxious, worried, and troubled. It was like every cell in my body could sense something bad happening, but I couldn't quite place my finger on it. Thus, I remained pacing around my room, downing glass after glass of whisky and vodka, occasionally smashing the glass, and growling whenever the feelings peaked. I rubbed my fingers together, taking a deep breath while I ran my fingers through my hair, because why the fuck could I not calm down? Why was a tiny voice in my soul whispering dangerous things to me? I understood that it had gotten pretty late and Blaire was still nowhere to be found, as well as the possible dangers that could be awaiting her, but was that really enough for me to be feeling as troubled as this? Jax had gone home almost immediately, and I knew he was working his ass off trying to find Blaire, but that wasn't my problem. My problem was a report that I got from him. He said he had sensed magic