Chapter 29. Sabotage. The Breaking Point

The gym was almost empty. It was late enough that even the heaters had given up.

Lia sat cross-legged on the blue vinyl mat, her right hand unwrapped, the skin an angry crimson where the knuckles had split. Dried blood crusted in the creases between her fingers. The ache had settled into a steady pulse, like a second heartbeat beneath her skin—dull, stubborn, familiar as an old enemy. It wasn’t just pain anymore. It was data. A report written in throbbing nerve endings. Evidence that someone had slipped past her defense, past the careful fortress she’d built around herself. And worse, that she’d let them in.

She shouldn’t have come back tonight. She knew that. But waiting at home felt too much like surrender. Pain was better when it had a purpose. Here, under the flickering fluorescents and the smell of chalk and sweat, the ache meant something.

She lifted her fist, testing the grip. Her fingers refused to close. She tried again. Nothing. Fine, she thought. Then I’