I stepped into the dimly lit gym, the familiar scent of sweat, pheromones and iron greeting me like an old friend. I made my way to the punching bag, its worn leather surface calling to me. I dropped my bag and grabbed my favourite glove from the shelf. I nodded to the few Omegas who were chatting near the boxing ring, my mind not on them. Frank wasn't around, so there was no one to distract me from my mission, which was to get everything off me. I slipped the glove on, inhaled before I made the first punch. As I punched harder on the bag, it seemed to absorb my blows, the sound of my fists hitting it with a satisfying thud. But in my mind, it wasn't the gear I was hitting. It was Jay's face, his bright smile, his obliviousness to my feelings. It was every damn frustrating thing about him.“Why can't you see?” I growled, my fists flying faster. “Why can't you feel it?”The bag swung back, and I chased after it, my punches relentless. I imagined his laughter, his carefree attitude, a
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