The gym nestled in the mansion's sublevel was a fortress of Rhys's unyielding discipline.
No frills, no distractions. just the essentials for channeling the storm that raged within.
Heavy bags suspended from reinforced chains, speed ropes coiled like serpents, a ring of mats stained from countless spars.
Air hummed with the low whir of climate control, but today it did little to temper the heat building in Rhys's veins.
He was bare-chested, sweat slicked skin taut over corded muscles, black shorts clinging as he unleashed on the central heavy bag. The thuds echoing like thunderclaps, each punch a manifestation of betrayal's bite.
Eleanor's words from the morning replayed in his skull, a venomous loop.
"Vosstech isn't just Julian's toy. It's Victor's life's blood."
Humanity, she h
