CHAPTER ONE
MASON
THREE YEARS BEFORE THE FIGHT
As sweat drips down my forehead and into my eyes, I punch the bag with as much force as I can, knocking it harshly from left to right. The burn in my knuckles is a welcome pain, especially after the s**t day I’ve had.
I didn’t bust my a*s for four years and graduate from college two months ago just to fetch coffee, dig important docs out of the trash, or be someone’s personal secretary. I knew I’d be starting at the bottom and have to prove myself, but it’s a little difficult to do that when I’m the b***h boy.
Once I finish my reps, I grab a towel and wipe off my face. Working out is the only thing that keeps me sane these days. Between the demons from my past and the guilt I continue to live with, I need this outlet. Since I joined the r
