Page 35 of Cold Carnage

The thought of him making a scene gnawed at me, something I couldn't afford right now.

I stayed silent as I weighed my options.

"I'll see what I can do," I muttered reluctantly.

"Fine," he said curtly before hanging up.

The silence in the room was deafening as I lowered the phone, my mind racing with everything Brendan had thrown at me.

Everything Paige had thrown at me without even trying.

I exhaled slowly, trying to gather my thoughts and failing miserably. Tomorrow was the first day of practice, another day of pushing through the chaos and finding some semblance of control.

But tonight? Tonight was about figuring out how to navigate this mess without losing myself in the process.

I needed a plan, but more importantly, I needed to find a way to keep Paige—and everything she represented—from unraveling what little stability I had left.

And that meant setting up a meeting with him and hoping like hell it wouldn't make things worse.

I stood up, the weight of my brother’s words heavy on my shoulders. My mind was a storm, each thought crashing into the next. I needed to hit something, anything, to release the pent-up frustration threatening to consume me. But I couldn't afford another scandal involving me hitting someone. The gym at The Snake Pit would have to do.

Grabbing my keys, I headed out into the night. The cold air hit my face as I stepped outside, despite it being early August. My car roared to life as I sped through the streets of Detroit, each turn bringing me closer to some semblance of relief. It was typically a twenty-minute drive, but I managed to cut that down to fifteen.

The Snake Pit loomed ahead, its familiar neon sign casting a dull glow. I parked and made my way inside, the silence of the rink eerie without the usual hustle and bustle of practice. The gym lights flickered on as I entered, illuminating the empty space.

I tossed my bag onto a bench and wrapped my hands with tape. Each wrap was tight, almost painfully so, but it was a welcome distraction from everything else. I needed this. Needed to focus on something physical.

The punching bag hung in the corner, waiting for me. I squared up and let loose, each punch fueled by years of suppressed anger and resentment. Brendan’s accusations echoed in my mind with every hit.

You always wanted her.

She left because of you.

The bag swung violently with each blow, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough to erase the years of guilt and confusion that had built up inside me.

It wasn't true.

I knew that.

He wanted someone to blame, and he found me.

And I… well, I hated her for what she did to Brendan, for what my brother did to our relationship.

Family came first. That was what Dad said.

How could she get between us like this?

Sweat poured down my face as I continued, my muscles burning from the exertion. But it felt good—better than facing the mess that awaited me outside this gym.

She’s just another PR manager.

My fists pounded against the bag harder at that thought. Paige was more than that; she always had been. But admitting that meant admitting vulnerability—something I couldn’t afford.

Eventually, exhaustion took over. My punches slowed until they were mere taps against the leather surface. Breathing heavily, I leaned against the bag, closing my eyes for a moment.

In this quiet space, away from everyone else’s expectations and judgments, I could almost pretend everything was fine. Almost.

I wiped my face with a towel and took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Tomorrow would bring new challenges—practice with the team, managing Paige’s presence—but for now, this moment of solitude was enough.

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