The heavy bag swings back toward me, and I drive my fist into it again. And again. The leather gives under my knuckles, the chain rattling with each impact. Sweat drips down my face, stings my eyes. I don't stop.
I can't stop.
Every time I close my eyes, I see it. The muzzle flash. The explosion of blood. Serafina standing over me with a gun in her hand, still smoking. She could have let me die. God knows she had reason enough. Instead, she pulled the trigger and saved my life.
I hit the bag harder.
The gym is empty this early—barely six in the morning—which is exactly how I want it. No witnesses to whatever the hell is happening to me. The door opens behind me, footsteps echoing on the concrete floor. I know who it is before he speaks.
"Boss." Marco's voice is careful. He knows bette
