Sutton
Punch, punch, jab, jab, kick, kick. That is my mantra as I work out my grief, hate, and anger onto the punching bag. It has been nearly two months since Ani’s death and I am no longer lying in bed crying, grieving, or daydreaming of a life with Ani. I focus all my energy on working out and fighting because even though I may never find out who is responsible for Ani’s death, I will see all rogues as my enemy.
The ones to assert my revenge on. The ones responsible for taking away my only chance of being with my mate.
I am tired of blaming myself for all the mistakes I have made. I am angry. I am not okay.
“Sutton!” Basil screams my name from behind the large bag. I’m so lost in the rock music that is blasting through my earbuds, I hadn’t noticed him until now.
“What?” I question,
