The clang of the wrench hitting the concrete floor echoed through the shop, the sound sharp and unforgiving. I paced around the motorcycle, the engine stubbornly refusing to cooperate. The more I tried to fix it, the worse it seemed to get. My fingers ached, grease coated my hands, and my patience was wearing thin. I could feel my blood pressure rising with every turn of the bolt that wouldn’t budge, every tool that slipped from my grasp.
"Goddamn it!" I muttered under my breath, picking up the wrench with a shaky hand and hurling it across the room. It flew through the air and lodged itself in the drywall, just inches from Mac's head.
He didn’t flinch, just raised an eyebrow at me. "Everything okay, Saint?" he asked, his voice casual as if I wasn’t about to take the whole damn shop d
