Page 129 of King of Pain

Grabbing my keys and phone, I sling the bag over my shoulder and head out the door, locking up behind me.

There’s a gym a few blocks away that looked promising when I scouted the area. Time to get back in the game.

Walking into Mountainside Fitness, I huff a laugh at the irony of the name. Mountainside Fitness? Please. They should come see what mountainside fitness really looks like—hauling fallen trees from a creek, chopping wood, steep climbs to mountain peaks just to look for civilization. That’s a real workout.

I make my way to the front desk, where a bored-looking girl barely glances up from her phone. “Hi, I’m interested in getting a membership,” I say when she doesn't bother to greet me.

She blinks, then picks up the desk phone and presses a button. “Kai, front desk. New member inquiry.”

A few moments later, a sassy looking twink saunters up, eyeing me from head to toe like I’m a steak fresh off the grill. “Well, hello there,” he says, voice smooth and flirtatious. “I’m Kai—and you must be here to maintain all of… that,” he adds, his hand sweeping over my body to emphasize his point.

Kai is tiny—I’d say 5’7” and a buck thirty at most—with perfect brown skin, sleek black hair styled to perfection, and rich brown eyes that seem to take in every detail of my body with each blink.

“Chance,” I introduce myself, shaking his hand.

He squeezes a little longer than necessary before letting go. “Oh, you definitely look like a chance I’d like to take.”

I raise a brow, amused, but say nothing. This is going to be a long tour.

He launches into it, gesturing dramatically at every piece of equipment like he’s unveiling a grand prize. And yeah, he’s got a great smile, an easy confidence, and a flirtation level turned up to maximum, but he’s wasting his breath. Not only is my heart spoken for, but I need someone who can throw me around.

Thinking about being thrown around makes my brain spiral straight to Ant—his solid frame, those biceps, how easily hecould handle me if I ever got the chance to let him. Fuck. I quickly redirect my thoughts before I throw a boner in the middle of the gym while wearing these tiny ass shorts. Kai will definitely think it’s because of him and I’ll have to find a new gym entirely.

I cut the tour short, clapping Kai on the shoulder. “I know my way around a gym. Is there somewhere we can sit and go over the membership options?”

Kai pouts but nods, leading me to his office. He pulls up a chair, sitting with a little flourish as he pulls out some paperwork. “So, Chance, what are your fitness goals? Are we looking to bulk up even more? Stay lean and mean? Or do you just want an excuse to hang out with me every day? You don’t need a membership for that. You could just ask me out.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “I’m flattered, Kai, really. But I have a boyfriend.”

Kai sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Of course, you do. The hot ones always do.”

I smirk to myself. Boyfriend.Manifesting again.

After wrapping up my membership, I throw my bag in a locker, grab a sweat towel, and hop on a treadmill to warm up. The steady rhythm of my feet hitting the belt helps center me, and my thoughts drift to what’s next.

I need a job.

I won’t ever do runs for The Doves again—that part of my life is over. But I won’t turn my nose up at a connection. Murph’s sister runs one of the art galleries downtown. There’s an associate paid internship opportunity there, and after spending three years painting in isolation, I want to continue.

I fell in love with painting more than any other medium—the way colors blend and clash, the way a single brushstroke can transform an empty space into something alive, the way a canvas can convey emotion when words fail. Over those three years, Ibled emotion onto every blank surface the hired runner dropped at the cabin, pouring out everything I couldn’t say. I kept the ones that mattered, the ones that hold the most important part of me. I’m just waiting for the shipment to arrive.

Yeah. That’s the plan.

I’ll investigate that internship. And then maybe, if he’ll let me, I’ll get to show Ant exactly what I see when I look at him.

TRACK FORTY•SEVEN

Every Breath You Take

Anthony

I glance at the clock on my monitor—5:42 p.m. Almost time to call it a day.

Through the glass walls of my office, I can see the soft glow of the evening cityscape starting to settle in. It still feels surreal that I have an office at all, let alone one right next to Meg’s. Six months after starting as her assistant, she moved me into this space, taking me further under her wing, training me hands-on with her clients. Two years later, I learn something new, something invaluable every day.

Right now, I’m reviewing a contract for Maya Bailey, a fifteen-year-old tennis prodigy already making waves in the sport. I was lucky to sign her, and the agency is ecstatic about it. Even at such a young age, Maya is sharp, humble, and fiercely committed, a rare combination in a sport full of egos. Her parents have been just as impressive—meticulous about her training, unwavering in their support, flying around the world to ensure she has the best opportunities. They remind me of all the reasons my own parents remain in the rearview mirror of my life. My mom still texts every so often, when guilt nags at her, I’m sure. They all sit unanswered.

I’m in the middle of a clause about media rights when my phone vibrates on my desk. I pick it up, glancing at the screen.