Page 24 of Betraying Him
Left.
Right.
Left.
Right.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been here, but it’s been long enough for my body to ache and my head to feel clearer than it has in days. It’s been long enough for the tears to be replaced with sweat and for my throat to feel tight from yelling out my frustrations, instead of holding back tears.
I’m not a fighter—I never have been, but I had to do something to quell my anger.
It’s been months since I’ve seen my father, but that time issoon coming to an end, because, according to the message he left me this morning, he needs to see me next week.
Just thinking about him has the rage bubbling back up, and I swallow a scream before doubling my efforts on the punching bag.
Left.
Right.
Lef—
“You’re doing it all wrong.” I freeze as a voice calls out behind me, the sound dulled by my heavy breathing. I turn slowly, trying to blink away the daze and focus on the man standing at the opposite end of the gym.
I swallow once he comes into focus, taking in his tall stature, the built muscles, and the permanent scowl on his face. My nerves ratchet up as soon as recognition dawns though.
Oh shit, oh fuck.
Does he know what happened? Did Harley send him?
“I am?” I ask, my voice sounding unsure, but not because of the conversation we’re having, but because of the person I’m having itwith.
His eyes roam over me in an assessing manner before he nods slowly. “Your form is off, you’re not positioning your fists properly, and you’re sloppy,” he states, and I can’t tell if he’s mocking me or trying to help.
With him, I can’t be sure.
“Right,” I murmur, still trying to figure out if he knows what I did to his best friend and is here for revenge, or if he’s actually just started a conversation with me for the hell of it. “Well, thanks for the tips.”
I don’t take my eyes off of him as I grab my water bottle and hoodie, before backing out of the room, only to freeze when I hear his voice again.
“Tell me, Savannah. What’s your reason for being here? Are you suddenly trying to fight because you want to hurt someone, or to protect yourself?”
The question is so unexpected, I can’t help the choked gasp that leaves me. My brain stutters to a halt before kicking back into gear, and that’s where I find him still staring at me with a knowing look in his eyes.
He knows, he has too.
“Can’t it be both?” I say, and a slow smirk pulls at his lips.
“Well, in that case, you can meet me here at 10 p.m. tomorrow, and I’ll help you.”
“You’ll help me? Why?”
Why the fuck would he ever help me?
“Because you remind me of someone. Any more questions?” His stare turns hard, and it’s only then that I realize just how soft his gaze had been beforehand. From what I’ve heard, he’s not the type to hand out niceties. I have no idea who I remind him of, or why he’s doing this, but I’d be a fool to turn him down.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” I murmur before fleeing.
He might help me, or he might hurt me.
