Chapter Twenty-Eight

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Chapter Twenty-Eight

"If you punch that thing any harder, you're going to bust a hole in it and Tristan's already done that twice since he got here."

I twitched, but didn't let up on the blows I delivered to the swinging black punching bag dangling from the rafters. I ignored Hannibal's voice behind me, ignored the burn in my knuckles and the fact that the bandages around my hands were now saturated in blood. I swung back and knocked the bag clear into the air and it came flying back, but this time, I didn't have the chance to strike it as Hannibal moved to catch it and steady it, getting between me and the bag.

He stared me down with those intense mismatched eyes, a frown furrowing his brows and lips pressing into a thin line. His long black hair was held back from his face in a perky ponytail, and he wore a skin tight black tank top and sweatpants, a towel draped around his neck. He'd probably just come from the weight room where I was sure he was spending time with Raven.

Now that I'd stepped away from the damn punching bag, though, I realized the others in the gym were staring at us. Tristan in particular was watching with narrowed eyes, his fists clenching and unclenching. Something told me he wanted to kick the shit out of me and the mood I was in, I was almost too happy to accept that challenge.

"Get out of my way," I told Hannibal gruffly, moving to get around him, but he dodged and blocked me again, making me glare at him.

"Menoetius, you've been here for the past two days from six in the morning until closing time."

I didn't answer him, just glared. Because it really wasn't any of his business why I was here. When he'd asked me the first day why I was in so early, my excuse had worked-- I was here to get back into shape. Atlan wasn't going to sit around and wait patiently while I bulked back up. It was partially the truth anyway.

The other reason was the fact that I was disgusted in myself. I'd completely fucked it up with Arikos and while he kept insisting we were okay, that he was okay with having cut things off where we did, I didn't believe any of it and I hated myself for not having finished.

The fact of the matter was that I was a coward.

I couldn't swallow my own problems long enough to make Arikos's world better. I owed him everything, more than just my ass, for everything he'd done for me and the fact that he loved me... I owed him more than just my loyalty and affection. He deserved more than just my soul and my heart, battered though they were. He deserved... well, not my body in particular considering it was a trash heap in its own right, but he deserved to be loved the way a normal person was loved.

And I couldn't even give him that, and I was supposed to be good at it after Tiberius had taught me everything.

Another shot of rage rushed through my veins and it took every ounce of control I had not to break Hannibal's neck to get to the punching bag. Instead, I took a step back, afraid I might actually cave into the urge.

"I really, really do not want to talk to you right now." My words went right over his head, because instead of just letting me go over to the weight room, he dogged me every step of the way.

"I'm not going to ask you about your personal life," Hannibal told me as I unwrapped the bandages from my hands, "I just don't want you to rip yourself apart before the battle's even started, Menoetius." I snorted at that as I tossed the bandages in a nearby trash can and pushed open the door that led to the weight room, spotting an empty bench and heading over. The entire time, Hannibal followed me. The only other person in the weight room was Zeke, on the strange contraption Hannibal had told me was called an elliptical. As soon as he saw us come in, however, and Hannibal shot him a glare, Zeke cleared his throat, shut the machine off and walked out whistling a strange tune.

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