VICTOR
Freya is alive and I am yet to pay her a visit.
I know they fucking want me to strike now, they are expecting me to strike now and that would be foolish of me.
As much as I want to strangle that bitch back to death I wouldn't because that is how they will get me.
The bag swung back and I caught it on the return, drove my right into the center of it and felt the impact travel up through my knuckles and my wrist and my shoulder and into the muscle behind it.
Again. Left hook, overhand right, two jabs fast enough that the chain rattled against the ceiling mount. I circled on the balls of my feet, light, chin tucked, shoulders loose, every combination landing exactly where I put it. The gym smelled like sweat and rubber and I had been in here for an hour and I was nowhere near done.
Soft men die fast.
