Page 4 of Knot Happening Again

I grit my teeth, muscles burning as I push harder. Sweat drips down my face, stinging my eyes. The bag swings wildly, but I don't let up. Can't let up. There's a fight coming, and I need to be ready.

But my head's not in it.

Hasn't been for weeks.

"You're distracted."

Mace's gruff voice cuts through the rhythmic thuds. I don't stop punching, but I feel his eyes on me, assessing.

"I'm fine," I grunt, landing another solid hit. The force meter spikes, but it's still not my best.

"Bullshit." Mace steps closer, his bulk blocking out the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. He's as tall as I am at six-foot-five, but even though he was also an MMA fighterbefore a knee injury ended his career as a fighter and segued into coaching, all those years of muscle have been buried under a thick layer of insulation. Everything but his broad, muscular arms that could probably snap a literal tree in half. "You've been off your game for days. What's going on?"

I wipe a few strands of sweat drenched bone white hair out of my eyes and I throw one last punch, harder than the others. The bag swings back, nearly smacking me in the face. I catch it, chest heaving.

"It's nothing."

Mace crosses his arms over his padded middle, unimpressed. "Try again."

I sigh, grabbing a towel to wipe my face. "Rhys has been talking about getting an omega again."

"And that's bad because...?"

My jaw clenches. I can't tell him.

I've never told another soul about Ophelia.

About what I did.

Not unless you count the endless string of private detectives I've hired in a vain attempt to track her down.

Not even my own pack.

No,especiallynot them. Not Mace, the trainer who's been with me since long before my new name on a billboard was enough to draw thousands of eager observers to my fights. Not even Rhys, my bond brother.

How could I tell any of them the truth?

It's been so long. Back then, it was out of cowardice and shame, but now…

Now, I wouldn't even know where to begin.

"It's a girl, isn't it?" he mutters in a knowing tone.

I freeze, staring up at the burly alpha. I'm not surprised he's sussed out that much. He knows me better than anyone, except Rhys. But I am surprised he's coming right out andasking. Talking really isn't our thing. At least, not about sensitive subjects. Definitely not sensitive subjects that involve feelings.

I could lie to him. Could deny it. But for one thing, he'd see right through it. He knows me too well. And for another, it feels like another wave of betrayal. Another disservice to the woman I owe everything and left with nothing.

But that's exactly what I was back then.

Nothing.

Nothing but an arrogant trust fund brat with big dreams and an even more outlandish ego, trying to make it out of his family's illustrious shadow.

Seven years and I've done a hell of a lot more than that. I've sold out arenas around the world and graced the covers of every MMA and sports magazine that's worth putting on a shelf, but what the fuck does any of it matter without her?

It's as if the sins of my past are a black hole, sucking in every accomplishment and possession I've acquired since, rendering it all meaningless. Everything except a pack that would rightfully hate me—and probably cast me out—if they knew the truth.

"Yeah," I say quietly. "It is."

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