The rhythmic thud-thud-thud of Asher’s fists hitting the punching bag echoed through the empty boxing gym. His breaths came in sharp, ragged bursts, his muscles burning with every strike, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. The image of Rayla smiling at Avri played on a loop in his mind, fueling the fire in his chest.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Each punch was harder than the last, his knuckles raw and aching beneath the wraps. He didn’t care. The pain was grounding, a distraction from the storm raging inside him.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
And then, with one final, brutal strike, his fist tore through the bag. Sand spilled out in a cascade, pooling on the floor at his feet. Asher stood there, chest heaving, his hands trembling as he stared at the ruined bag.
“You know,” Nick’s voice cut through the s
