ROMAN
I hit harder than I used to.
I knew it.
But I didn’t stop.
The impact ran up my arm, sharp and familiar—the kind of sting that usually helped me focus.
Today, it didn’t do much. My thoughts were still louder than the rhythm I was trying to force into my body.
Again.
My fist drove forward, controlled.
That was the problem.
I wasn’t calm.
Not since this morning.
I exhaled sharply, stepping back for a second, rolling my shoulders like that would shake it off. It didn’t. The tension sat there, stubborn, like it had settled into my bones.
I ran a hand through my hair, jaw tightening as the memory flashed again.
Mason.
The look on his face.
The moment everything snapped.
I clenched my fist.
I hadn’t just reacted.
I’d lost it.
There was a difference.
And I knew it.
That
