Page 140 of The Order

“You’ll see.”

The outside of the building is run down, much like many of the other ones in this sector. With a swipe of Fallan’s ID, he gets us inside. Unlike his unit, this space has many large windows, each meant to bring in as much light as possible. Black bags swing from the roofs, some already broken free from chains. Soft mats coat the ground, adding to the smell of rubber lingering in the air.

Fallan tosses his duffel bag onto the floor. He’d changed into a black shirt and a pair of black pants. I watch him begin to wrap his knuckles with gauze, pacing around the space as he worked.

“What is this place?” I question, running my hand along the course material of the punching bags.

“A conditioning gym. Aren't there some of these in your sector?” he questions, my head already shaking.

“Not really an Untouchables thing. Our Defense Classroom is about the closest place to this I can think of,” I say, unsure at what point my people decided that focusing on physical fitness wasn’t worth the time.

Fallan moves away from his duffel, positioning a punching bag in front of him. With a nod of his head, he motions me closer, my arms already tingling in anticipation. His hand runs along the bag's surface, watching me move closer.

Once I’m within reaching distance, he grabs my hand, guiding it to the middle of the bag.

“You're going to hit here,” he starts, keeping my hand in his own as he wraps my knuckles. He winds the gauze tightly around my hands, carefully protecting each knuckle. “The first thing about controlling what we are is controlling the rage we carry with us,” he continues, my eyes glancing at his already red knuckles.

“Have you already been here today?” I question, running my thumb along the abrasions.

“I had a bit of extra motivation,” he shrugs, pulling away to give me and the bag space to move.

I stare at the massive punching bag that sways in front of me.

“I don’t know how to hit anything,” I say, his arms crossed as he watches me.

“Actually, you do. Well, sorry, I guess it’s really me who knows. Good thing I'm here,”It mutters, reaching out again to take some control.

My fist flies out in front of me, my legs positioned defensively beneath me. Hitting the bag with a burst of power behind the swing, the bag swings back, the chains releasing a high-pitched clang into the gym. Some of my anger is immediately satiated, and I can’t hide how satisfied I am.

I suck in air as his hands touch my waist. Moving my hips forward, he begins to fix my stance. His breath warms the spot behind my ear where my chip once existed. I lean into him as he squeezes my hips, his arm strung across my front, holding me to his chest.

“Come on, Little Dove,” he taunts, his lips grazing my ear. “I know you can reach deeper than that”

The vivid image of the woman in his bed passes through my mind.

That memory didn’t come from nowhere.

He sent me that image.

I pull myself away, my focus back on the bag. Readying myself, I let the other part of me take control again, feeling Its anger rise.

He wanted me to see that girl in his bed.

Dick.

Throwing another punch, I watch as the bag concaves beneath my hand, the material threatening to rip from the impact.

As the other part of me backs away into the recesses of my mind again, my body is drained once more. Leaning into the bag out of exhaustion, I take a deep breath, annoyed at my inability to maintain the strength to manage both parts of me for more than a few minutes.

“I thought you didn't care about Fallan,”I whisper angrily, observing the now misshapen punching bag.

“Maybe I’m not too fond of seeing another woman in his bed,”It nearly yells.

I’m glad there’s something we agree on.

“You're an asshole for showing me that,” I say, turning to see a smirk on Fallan’s face.

“I figured you needed some motivation,” he says, giving me an apologetic look I know is far from sincere.

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