Page 16

KINGSTON

My fists hit the heavy bag with nothing around them but hand wraps. It wasn’t as if the contact would do any real damage. Not with my shifter strength and healing.

And I needed the bite of pain the lack of protection could bring. Anything that would keep my wolf in check. Who was I kidding? My human half needed it just as much.

Both sides of me were more than a little at risk of going feral. Because all either of us wanted was to eliminate any threats to Wren. We needed every dark mage and Death Walker dead—but Bastian Boudreaux most of all.

Just the name had me hitting the bag harder. The knowledge that Wren had lived through some of what my sister had was almost more than I could take. The pain, the torture, the breaking of her spirit.

The fact that I’d caused her pain on top of all she’d already lived through made me want to rip out my own entrails.

“Makin’ any progress on those demons?” Clyde asked as he sauntered up to the bag.

He’d asked the same question every time he saw me since Wren woke up. Because I’d been in the gym every day since, taking everything out on the bags and in the ring. It was the only thing keeping me slightly sane.

“They aren’t killing me today,” I muttered, leveling the bag with a hook.

Clyde moved in to steady it, and I felt his gaze on me, assessing. “You ready to talk about it?”

He’d asked that every day, too. But I wasn’t. Couldn’t voice the shame swirling inside me. Instead, I just kept hitting that bag.

Clyde sighed. “You don’t let it out, and it’s going to eat you alive. You know that better than anyone.”

He was right. I did. I warned every person who came into this gym with a chip on their shoulder that they needed to give someone the words, along with this outlet. If you had the training without it, you could end up in a world of hurt.

My fists hit the bag over and over before the words were torn from my throat. “I fucked up.”

The sentence was barely a whisper, but Clyde plucked it out from beneath the music, the sounds of fighting, and the other gym noises.

“Everyone does. We’re not perfect,” he said, his voice low.

“Not this kind of fuckup.” Guilt swept through me. “I questioned her. Doubted her. Thought the worst of her.” I punctuated each sentence with a blow to the heavy bag. It took everything I had to hold back my full shifter strength.

Clyde studied me for a long time as I hit the bag. That was him, never rushing, never filling the silence simply because it was there. He waited until he knew just what he needed to say.

“You think it’s makin’ it better to lock yourself up in a stinky-ass gym, punishing yourself over and over?”

I stilled, straightening to take in the man who’d become like a father to me in all the ways that mattered. “First, my gym isn’t stinky.”

Clyde’s lips twitched, but the hint of a grin on his face quickly fell away. “You think I don’t see you trying to torture yourself here? Pretty sure you’ve gained ten pounds of muscle in the last week.”

He wasn’t wrong. I’d always been a big guy, but I’d focused on lean muscle. I’d bulked up considerably thanks to the endless workouts recently. “Torture’s a little extreme.”

Especially when I hadn’t been through the things Wren had. She’d experienced real pain. I didn’t deserve Clyde’s pity.

His eyes narrowed on me. “You’re hurting yourself. Working out to the point of exhaustion. Cutting yourself off from your friends and family. Disappearing into a world of self-punishment. I don’t fuckin’ like it.”

I tugged at my hand wraps, unraveling them. “Noted.”

“You messed up, fine. Fix it. But you’re not going to do that by holing up in here.”

“You sound like Puck,” I muttered.

“Usually, I think that knucklehead is acting a fool, but he obviously has some sense once in a while.”

I wanted to smile at that but couldn’t quite get my mouth to do it. “I’m trying.”

“Are you?” Clyde challenged.

My back teeth ground together. “I left her flowers this morning.”

I’d felt so damn pathetic. Sneaking into Wren’s room and leaving the wildflowers without even a note. And it wasn’t like the blooms could magically heal all the hurt I’d caused.

“Flowers are a start, but you need to be around to truly mend something like this.”

I bit the inside of my cheek until the metallic tang of blood filled my mouth. “I’m not sure she wants me around.” And that hurt worst of all.

“Gotta find out. Slow and steady, but don’t give up,” Clyde encouraged.

I jerked my head in a nod, but doubt swirled. “I don’t know if I’m good for her.” Maybe I harbored too many demons. Had too many scars.

“The fuck you aren’t,” Clyde clipped. “You’re one of the best men I’ve ever known, and Wren deserves that.”

A burn lit along my sternum. “Clyde?—”

“She still in danger?” he asked, not wanting my thanks.

The question hurt. Because I hadn’t made Wren safe. Not completely. Not yet. “Yes,” I admitted.

“Fuckin’ fix that,” Clyde barked.

“Working on it.”

“Good. Now, go shower, pick up your girl from her shift, and make things right.”

“Okay, I?—”

My phone rang from where I’d put it on the floor by the wall. I stalked over to it, swiped it up, and saw Locke’s name on the screen. “Yes?”

“Someone tried to get onto our territory.”

Fear swept through me like an inferno lighting in a single breath. “Where’s Wren?”