CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The gym's air is thick with the scent of effort and pine cleaner. Weights clang in rhythmic discordance as I dodge and weave, my fists slicing through the stale atmosphere of the pack house gym. Sweat trails down my temples, my heart hammers—each beat a reminder of the days ticking by in quiet unease.
"Left hook, right jab," I mutter to myself, visualizing an invisible opponent dancing before me. My knuckles sting with each impact against the heavy bag, the echo of leather on leather filling the space between breaths.
"Nice form," a familiar voice rumbles from behind me.
I pivot on my heel, almost losing my footing as Logan steps into view. His brown hair is tousled from his own workout, a few damp strands clinging to his forehead. His eyes—just as brown—watch me wi
