Hit.

I was back in the living room of my apartment. It was pitch black; the only thing pelting light into the place was a small crack in the doorway to my sister's room. I shrugged off my coat and threw my keys into the ceramic bowl I knew was sitting somewhere on the shoe cabinet beside the door, the clink of keys and coins rattling softly in the dark.

Hit.

"Beth?" I called out, but my voice was drowned out by the sound of thunder crashing through the sky. "Beth, you busy?"

Hit.

Ever since my sister and I moved into this apartment, we had fallen into a solid routine. I'd come home from my evening shift at the gym and Beth would be in her room, buzzing with caffeine from her third latte of the day as she writes up her latest assignment. Sometimes, if my boyfriend, Jax, gets off from training early, I'd find him perched on my bed, freshly showered and waiting for me with open arms.

That was the way it was supposed to be.

Hit.

I hadn't anticipated getting off work early today, but one of my students had been a no-show and Julian told me I could leave. So I did. Truthfully, I was grateful for class being cancelled since I was more than ready to have an early kickoff to the weekend. I wondered if Beth was up for it too. We could order takeout and put on Gilmore Girls like we always do.

Hit.

I approached my sister's door, fist reaching up, ready to knock.

A soft moan drifts through the crack of the doorway, coupled with bed creaking noises.

My hand dropped to my side, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Beth never told me she was having a guy over tonight. She never has anyone over, really, so this was new for me. I wished she'd text me first so I could give her some privacy; she knew I'd be more than happy to give it to her. I'd usually shoot her something quick when Jax is over and we desperately need some alone time. I decided to let it slide for now. Maybe she'd tell me all about her mystery man later.

I began to inch away from the door.

But then . . . I heard it.

"Oh, Jax," Beth moaned.

Shock paralyzed my body, forcing me to stumble back until my back collided against the wall.

HIT.

The squeaking immediately came to a halt. There were sounds of frantic shuffling and clothes being pulled on, and then the door being flung wide open.

Jax was out first. Followed by Beth. Both looking shocked as hell.

Both looking guilty as hell.

I could feel the floor beneath me folding onto itself into one huge, black sinkhole.

HIT. HIT. HIT.

Jax's breathing was heavy and unsettled as he looked at me. I could feel my heart being cleaved wide open when his gaze locked with mine.

"Princess," he said softly and reached a hand out toward me. I recoiled from him, shaking my head. "Princess, wait—"

"How long?" I hurled out the first question that I could string together in my mind. I was surprised I was able to form words at all.

Jax's mouth hung open, no words falling out. Beth flinched at my sharpness, and in that moment, I felt bad for her, the shame unfurling across her face making me falter. But then my field of vision expanded and I saw the full, raw picture in front of me—Jax in nothing but a flimsy blanket to cover himself. Beth wearing a shirt that I recognize not to be hers.

Jax's shirt.

"HOW LONG?" I yelled out, my voice nearly breaking.

"A couple months," Beth croaked out.

My heart absorbed the words upon impact.

I can't fucking believe it.

My boyfriend and my sister.

Fucking. Under the same roof.

For months.

While he was still fucking me.

Disgust slammed into my body with the force of a tidal wave.

HIT. HIT. HIT. HIT.

I needed to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible before I completely lost it.

I spun around and headed straight to the door.

My sister started sobbing hysterically, pleading with me not to leave. Jax tried to downplay the situation. A slew of excuses fell out of his mouth like he was reciting lines from every terrible movie cheating scene ever—"We were just messing around . . . It just happened out of nowhere . . . I swear we never meant to hurt you." God, how dense could he possibly be? Of course they meant to hurt me. If they didn't mean to hurt me, they wouldn't have fucking done it in the first place!

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't BREATHE. The pain in my chest kept expanding and expanding as they continued to hurl their stupid, half-assed explanations for infidelity at me until I finally had enough of it and the melting pot of emotions brewing inside me erupted.

"JUST STOP IT!" I screamed as I twisted back to them, wishing they could just shut the fuck up and leave me alone. But my pleas went unheard. The more they tried to reason with me, the more suffocated I felt; the more my lungs struggled to catch air.

"JUST STOP!"

I started to feel dizzy. Overwhelmed. My eyes blinked rapidly as I tried to gain some sense of control but the world around me slowed and warped and swiveled and everything became more unsettled, more constricting . . .

"JUST STOP JUST STOP JUST STOP."

HIT. HIT. HIT. HIT. HIT. HIT.

"JUST STOP JUST STOP JUST STOP JUST STOP."

HIT. HIT. HIT. HIT. HIT. HIT.

"JUST STOP!" I rasp to myself as the punching bag swings back so hard that it collides with my body, causing me to lose my footing and stumble to the ground.

I unravel the boxing wraps from my hands and fling them across the mat as hard as I can, frustration leaking out of me in tears and sweat as I try to get my breathing back under control. My head is spinning so hard my brain feels like it's about to fall out. If I don't get enough oxygen into my system right now, I might just pass out.

Calm down, Sienna. Deep breaths, I schooled myself. In, out, in, out, in, out. . .

My fingers dig into my blond hair but it's all tangled and in disarray, with strands sticking to my sweat-slicked face. When I drag my hands out of my hair, they feel weird and sore. I stretch them out in front of me, palms facing down. There's no mistaking the pools of red on my knuckles.

Looks like the no-gloves idea really panned out for you, didn't it? I think to myself, mentally slapping myself for being this stupid. I knew that it was a rookie move. I knew it, and like a fool, I did it anyway because I'd hoped the physical pain could override the emotional pain.

But my theory was bullshit. I feel both. Raw and definite.

Hot tears stream down my face as I snatch a bandage roll from my gym bag and wrap it around my knuckles. They'll probably hurt for a while, which means I might need a few days off from the gym to give them some time to heal.

I came to the gym after I mustered up the courage to return to the apartment a second time, with the sole purpose of clearing all my things from my room and getting the hell out of there as fast as I could. Jax wasn't there this time, and Beth did little to fight for me to stay, instead silently retreating into her room while I stuffed my clothes and whatever else I could into my bag and left. It was better that way. She probably knew that if she tried confronting me again things would get real ugly. My fists were aching to hit something, and while I knew that Jax could take it, there was no way in hell Beth could.

And I've showed them enough of my vulnerability for one night.

So instead, I'm here with the punching bag as my,
well . . . punching bag. The Universal Fighter's Gym has always been a safe haven for me, the place where I feel the most at home when the world feels like it's caving in. I've been working as a mixed martial arts trainer since last summer, and I have every intention of turning that into a full-time gig once I've graduated from college.

As much as I'm on good terms with the boss who runs the place—Julian—he'll kill me if he finds me using the gym as my sleeping quarters. And jeopardizing my career over this is simply not worth it.

I still need a place to stay. There's no way I'm going back to the apartment.

My sister and my boyfriend are officially dead to me.

Staying with friends is out of the question too. When I called to tell Dakota and Trevor, my friends since high school, what had happened, I was shocked to hear that they were already aware of Beth and Jax's affair but hadn't had the heart to say anything to me because they "didn't want me to get hurt." As if that makes the least bit of sense.

So that just leaves family.

But family hasn't felt like a family in a long time. I haven't talked to my dad in weeks now. And last I heard, my mom was dancing with strangers in the heart of Rio.

I let the tears dry on my face for a little while longer before picking myself off the mats. I yank my bag over my shoulder and shut off the lights to the gym, then head out. I'm immediately greeted with the rain. It pelts lightly at my body at first, but soon soaks my clothes as it continues to pour. The winter chill has already begun to attack my wet skin, and while I usually don't mind the cold, I loathe it when it's combined with rain.

I wipe the rain off my face with the back of my arm, but I think I'm wiping away angry tears instead. I'm not sure.

Maybe I'm raining tears.

I don't think I've felt like I've ever hit rock bottom until now.

I have no home. No friends. No family. No boyfriend and no sister.

Bitter resentment crawls into my heart when I think about the both of them. How could they? I didn't think either had it in them to do something so malicious. Especially my sister.

Sweet, kind, soft-spoken Beth. She and I are so different that sometimes our friends would forget that we were related. Beth is artistic, shy but incredibly well-mannered—to the point where my dad truly believes that she's his biggest achievement to date. As much as I aspired to be like her, I just couldn't bring myself to stay away from trouble, getting sucked into the violent world of MMA and choosing to make a career out of it too. But that didn't mean that Beth and I didn't get along. We pushed each other's buttons, as sisters do, but when it came down to it, we had each other's backs. More so after our parents' divorce.

When she graduated from high school last summer, I thought it would be great to find a place together in the city. It was a certainly a convenient solution: we both got some breathing space from my dad, and since Beth was also attending Boston University—it being her first year and my third—it was much better than staying in the dorms or bunking with roommates that I barely knew.

Who knew it was also convenient for her to sleep with my boyfriend?

My body shudders with betrayal.

And Jax. Goddammit, Jax.

I was so certain that my relationship with him was the kind that was written in the stars. I met him around the time my parents announced their divorce, and he helped me through some of the darkest moments of my life. Boys have always been a struggle for me, but with Jax, falling for him was as graceful and effortless as witnessing a knockout punch in a ring. Even back then, he had a dangerous edge to him that was too tempting to stay away from. I liked it. And I liked that he understood the tempest roaring inside of me and helped me embrace who I really am.

I am nothing without him. Just an empty shell of who I used to be.

A car races past me on the road, sending a pool of water in my direction. A heavy breath falls out of me.

Seriously, I can't catch a fucking break tonight.

I run to the nearest bus stop and pull out my phone to search for some possible places to stay for the night. There's a budget hotel a few streets over. I'm too stubborn to call for a cab when the distance is so close, so I sprint as fast as my legs can carry me.

The hotel lobby is sinisterly dark when I step through the doors. Water pools beneath my feet and drenches the faded Persian carpet beneath me. I look up to see the receptionist staring with annoyance at the sight of my wet clothes. I'm not sure I care about inconveniencing her; I'm entirely focused on drying up in a decently sized room and sleeping off what happened today.

I rest my wet arm on the counter.

"I need a room tonight."

She gives me another glance over, then lets out a sigh before grabbing a key from one of the drawers and chucking it at me.

"Second floor. Room 104," she says flatly. "Enjoy your stay."

Dragging myself up the stairs is a challenge when I'm ten pounds heavier from the water clinging to every inch of my body. When I finally reach my room, the first thing that hits me is the stench of bleach. It smells sterile in here. Like a murder took place and forensics has just scrubbed the place clean. But the sight of a comfy bed and a clean bathroom is enough for me to momentarily forget about the unpleasant scent.

I peel off my clothes and hop into the shower. It's difficult to even clean myself properly because of the exhaustion of carrying around such heavy heartache. Instead, I settle for a light rinse, toweling myself off afterward and getting ready for bed.

I pull the blanket over me, wrap it around myself tightly, and try to shut off my mind.

I can't sleep.

The nightmare of finding Jax and Beth together keeps replaying in my mind. Every time I close my eyes, there he is—hands gliding over her skin, his mouth peppering kisses down her throat, his hips grinding against hers in a passionate, frenzied way that causes a loud, breathy moan to escalate from deep within her throat. God, I feel sick to my stomach again. Maybe if I threw it all up in the toilet the memory would get flushed away along with my sick.

How did I get blindsided by all of this? There must have been signs that I simply dismissed as paranoia. Instances when Jax and Beth got a little too close, were a little too affectionate. Maybe acting shady or too defensive when I would notice something and speak up about it. I sift through the memories, scrambling to dissect everything that either of them said to me for the past few months, but come up short, with not many red flags sticking out.

Perhaps they'd hid it from me well. Or I was just terrible at picking up the signs. But then again, even if there had been signs, I doubt I would have suspected that something like this would happen. Because how could I? I trusted Jax and Beth with my life.

And now, I feel like such a fucking fool.

Exhaustion soon gives way to a new kind of anger, slowly chipping away at my patience and resolve.

Do Jax and Beth think they can just drive an axe into my heart and not suffer any consequences? There's no fucking way I'll just let them go unscathed. I've been burned so many times in the past, but this feels different. It's a wild, untamed nuclear kind of anger. The sheer magnitude of their deception is too big for me to let slide.

This time, it's way too personal.

I flip over on the bed and clench my jaw so tightly that my teeth grind.

I'm not going to give either of them the satisfaction of breaking me. Because I can't break. It's simply not in my nature.

I may have fallen to the ground face-first but I can trust that I will pick myself up again. I'm not weak. I'm not.

I'm a fighter.

I'm going to make Jax and Beth pay for what they did.

And this time, they'll be sorry they ever fucked with me.