Page 56 of Knot the Last Chapter

Tyler

The gym has always been my haven. My battleground. The place I go to bleed off everything I can’t say out loud. The punching bag swings on its chain like a pendulum while I slam my fists into it again and again. Each impact thunders up my arms. Every breath is a growl I can’t voice.

But it’s not enough.

Not enough to shake the image of her curled up on the couch, pale and hurt. Not enough to silence the memory of her scent—sweet and storm-drenched—the moment I pulled her into my arms. Not enough to dull the ache that comes from knowing she’s just down the hall and I can’t touch her. Can’t explain. Can’t claim her.

Then it shifts. A whisper in the air.

Her scent. Stronger than usual. Warmer. Mixed with something that makes my jaw clench hard enough to crack bone.

Corwyn.

I freeze, my chest heaving. The bag sways back, untouched. I move to the doorway just in time to see him passing down the hall.

Relaxed. Satisfied.

And carrying her scent like he has every right to it.

It hits me like a shot of lightning to the chest.

I know that scent. I’ve dreamed of that scent. She was on fire earlier, every cell in her body begging for connection, and he was just in her room. I know what that means.

“Corwyn.”

My voice cuts through the corridor like a blade. He stops, then pivots slowly, arms relaxed at his sides, eyes unreadable. “Something on your mind?”

“You were with her.”

He nods, too casual. “Yes.”

I take a step forward. “And?”

“We talked. I kissed her.”

The floor feels like it drops out beneath me. My fists tighten until my knuckles crack. Heat floods my system, alpha instinct clawing for control.

“You what?”

He doesn’t blink. “You heard me.”

My vision tunnels for a second, and I barely register the storm continuing its assault against the house. The windows rattle. My heart pounds harder.

“She was mine,” I snarl. “I had something with her first.”

Corwyn’s mouth twists into something like a smile—but not a kind one.

“That’s not how this works, Ty.”

“She was falling for me,” I growl. “Before she even knew my face.”

“You mean before you told her who you were,” he says, voice still maddeningly calm. “You let her fall for a name. A story. You let her lean on a fantasy instead of a man.”

The hit lands. And it lands deep. I turn away, pacing a few steps down the hall before spinning back toward him.

“You think I didn’t want to tell her?” I hiss. “I was going to meet with her. But then she showed up. Here. And she was angry. She looked at me like I was the villain in her story. And maybe I was. Maybe I am.”

Corwyn sighs. “You’re making this a competition.”