Page 95 of Gray

“You want me to work out with you?”

He took the towel off his neck and draped it over the weight bench. “No. I want you to beat the shit out of that punching bag.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Remember when I said you were full of rage?” Galen faced me. “I have that same rage inside me too.” He nodded to the hanging bag. “This is how I release some of it. I come in here every day and punch, kick, scream, whatever the fuck I need to do to keep my ass in check.”

“Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?”

“Nice?” Galen smiled. There was something animalistic about it though, like a lion flashing his teeth in front of his prey. “I still wouldn’t mind kicking your ass, hunter. But Gray marked you. You’re not just some passing fancy for him. You’re the real deal. Will I still be keeping an eye on you? You bet your ass I will. But he needs our support right now.”

“So you’re helping me,” I said, hesitant.

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” Galen’s tone deepened. “Stop asking so many fucking questions, and warm up.”

I pulled my shirt off and tossed it aside before doing some upper-torso stretches, loosening up my arm muscles.

Galen and I lifted weights together for a while, neither of us saying a word. We didn’t need to though. I wouldn’t call us friends by any means. I wouldn’t even say we liked each other much. But the tension between us had eased a bit, as if some unspoken understanding had been agreed upon. When I approached the punching bag a while later, I jabbed at it once, then again.

“I said punch it.” Galen sat up on the weight bench and wiped at the sweat on his chest. “Not make love to it.”

“Iampunching it.”

“Yeah, well, punch it harder. You have muscles. Use them.” He stood from the bench and came over to me. “Don’t just use physical strength. You have to hit it with the shit inside you too.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Humans,” he muttered. “The trick is letting yourself get angry. You have to pop the lid off that bottle and release all that pent-up rage. This exercise won’t do shit to help if you don’t.”

Get angry.I could do that. I tapped it with my knuckles before swinging hard.

“Still not good enough.” Galen shoved me away from the bag, and I stumbled back a few steps. “The night your men died, how did you feel?”

“What?”

“Answer me.”

“Pissed off,” I said, stepping toward him. “A lot like right now. Keep your hands off me.”

“Gotta do better than that, Hawk.” Galen shoved me again. “I can see right now you’ve never actually let yourself feel their loss. You’ve never fully dealt with it.”

“What the hell do you mean?” I clenched my fists and advanced on him. “I deal with it every goddamn day.”

“You bury it,” he said. “I know because I’ve been there. Your inability to truly face that pain? That’s why you’re a loose cannon. That’s why you can’t sleep through the night. So I’ll ask again. What did you feel when your men died?”

“Angry!” I punched the bag.

“And?”

My throat got tight as I hit it again. “Helpless.”

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t save them!” I jabbed with my left hand, then my right, alternating the hits between fists. The backs of my eyes stung. “I watched as they were torn apart. Eaten. And I couldn’t do a goddamn thing to stop it. I lost the first man I ever loved… my best friend.”

“Let it out,” Galen said, bumping the bag with his closed fist. “Let yourself feel that anger, the pain, the fucking seething rage that’s stealing your breath and tearing your heart wide open.”

I yelled as I hit the bag again. Then again. My voice cracked as the pain I’d kept bottled up for so long finally broke free. And then I did what I hadn’t done in years: I cried. Not just a few tears slipping from my eyes. It was a body-shaking cry that nearly sent me to my knees. With my vision so blurry I couldn’t see, I hit the bag over and over before finally losing strength and dropping to the gym floor.