Rafael's Point of View
The punching bag swings violently from the chain, slamming back and forth in rhythm with my heartbeat. Each strike lands harder than the last. The dull thud of leather and sand fills the near empty training center. It is still early, the sun barely above the horizon, but I have already been here long enough for my sweat to soak through my shirt.
I need the noise.
The burn.
Something to drown out the image burned into my head, Octavia sitting across from Kai at breakfast this morning.
I tell myself it is not what it looked like. That they were just talking, nothing more. But I know better. I saw the way he looked at her. That small, stupid smile he only ever gives her.
And worse, I saw how she smiled back at him.
I slam another punch into the bag. My knuckles a
