Kai did not anger easily. He was the sort of individual who laughed away problems, who let things slide over him like water off a stone. But this—this was not the same.
Noah's words had cut deeper than any punch Kai had ever absorbed. The chill of finality in his voice. The fact that he did not even hesitate. It was as if he said every single one of them with meaning.
Kai plunged himself into training. Each punch at the punching bag was more precise, harder, driven by something raw and nasty. The gym was his sanctuary, the sweat on his body a cover for the pain in his heart.
"You're gonna burst the damn bag at this rate," Fist said, resting against the ropes of the boxing ring, arms folded. His tone was laced with its usual amusement, but there was interest in his eyes.
Kai brushed the sweat from his face with the back of his hand. "Good. Maybe I'll get a new one."
Fist snorted a laugh. "Or maybe you'll confess what's really gnawing at you."
