Chapter 31

Megan’s POV

The punching bag swayed violently with the impact of my assault, the rhythmic thudding echoing through the gym.

Sweat poured down my face and back as I drove my fists into the battered leather with merciless precision.

"That's it, kiddo!" Jane's gravelly bellow cut through the haze of exertion. "Channel that pent-up hellfire and give it hell!"

I grunted, redoubling my effort and slipping into the trance-like state where the rest of the world melted away.

Just me, the bag, and the relentless need to exorcise the roiling turbulence from my mind through punishing physical output.

Thrust, pivot, weave, strike - the sacred dances of violence ingrained into my very marrow over years of spilled blood and sacrifice.

They flowed through me as naturally as breathing now, unlocking a profound inner tranquility no external chaos could ever touch.

Eventually, even the howling din of my own ragged breaths faded to white