Bang.
I collided with something solid.
Strong.
Hairy.
A man.
The impact knocked the air out of me.
My forehead hit a hard chest, and for a second, I thought I had just slammed into a wall.
A very warm wall.
Two firm hands gripped my shoulders before I could stumble backward.
“Careful,” a deep voice rumbled above me.
I froze.
Slowly, I looked up.
He was tall.
Not just tall — towering.
Broad shoulders stretched beneath a fitted black training shirt that clung to muscles carved from years of combat.
His arms were thick, dusted with dark hair, veins visible beneath tanned skin.
The scent of sweat, iron, and something wild clung to him.
A warrior.
His jaw was sharp, shadowed with stubble.
Dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, and his eyes — gods — his eyes were an unsettling shade of amber, studying me with quiet intensity.
Not surprise.
Assessment.
As if I were the one who had just walked into his territory.
His grip tightened just a fraction before he seemed to remember himself and released me.
“My apologies,” he said, though his tone carried no real apology.
My skin prickled.
He didn’t lower his gaze.
Didn’t flinch.
Most pack members avoided eye contact with me — out of respect, pity, or disdain, I wasn’t sure which.
But this man held my stare steadily, like he was trying to read something beneath my skin.
Lucy stirred uneasily inside me.
“Careful,” she warned softly.
I straightened, brushing invisible dust from my dress.
“It was my fault,” I replied calmly.
“I should have knocked louder.”
A flicker of something passed through his eyes — amusement?
Or was it approval?
“You’re not ready for this part of the pack grounds,” he said, stepping aside but not fully moving out of my path.
“The gym isn’t a place for soft hands.”
My spine stiffened.
Soft?
“I didn’t come here to watch,” I said evenly.
“I came to train.”
Then, unexpectedly, he chuckled.
Low.
Rough.
“That,” he said, stepping back fully now, “I would like to see.”
He turned slightly, revealing a faint scar running from his collarbone down beneath his shirt.
Old.
Deep.
The kind earned in battle — not training.
He wasn’t just a warrior.
He was seasoned.
And something about him felt… connected.
Not familiar.
But significant.
As I stepped past him into the gym, I felt his gaze follow me.
Heavy.
Calculating.
And for reasons I couldn’t explain, a chill crawled down my spine.
This man wasn’t just muscle and arrogance.
He was something else.
And somehow, I felt like I was walking on eggshells.
I walked around the corner of the gym.
Everywhere was packed and filled with different equipment and machines for training.
I looked around and saw a few pack members training.
They were all engrossed in their workouts and either didn’t notice my presence or outright ignored me.
Whatever.
I didn’t really care.
I’m kind of used to it.
I was confused about how and where to start.
This was my first time in a gym.
“Do you need my help?” a low, musky voice sounded from behind me, and I almost jumped in fright.
The same guy again.
Why is he following me?
I frowned, but I couldn’t deny the fact that I needed help.
From the looks of it, he seemed to be a veteran warrior, and that was perfect for my training goals and plan.
“Well, it’s my first time here. I don’t know where to start,” I sighed.
“First time here, or first time in a gym?” he mocked.
“You can forget I said anything and don’t bother me again,” I raised my voice slightly.
I was getting annoyed by this cocky stranger.
I turned and began to walk away.
“Wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass or belittle you. I’m David, and I know we started off on the wrong note, but I think we can put that behind us. Right?”
He stretched out his hand for a handshake.
I stood quietly for a moment.
Although he sounded a bit rude and annoying, I guess we could get along.
“It’s fine. I hold no grudge,” I replied, moving my hand to accept the handshake.
His hand was large and masculine, almost swallowing mine as he gave it a gentle squeeze.
Subtle and harmless, yet it sent a current through my body.
I pretended everything was fine and returned a small smile.
The handshake lingered longer than necessary until I had to withdraw my hand from his hold.
“Oh, sorry about that. I got distracted,” he said in a low tone.
There was something about that tone that felt off, but I brushed it aside.
“Let’s go start you off in the cycling section,” he said, leading the way as I followed behind him.
On getting there, there were many cycling machines lined up in rows.
He pointed to one for me to get on.
He bent down and adjusted the machine, setting it to a range he thought would be suitable for me.
“As a beginner, you’re going to do ten rounds of four sets. We’ll increase it after each session,” he instructed.
I breathed out, steadied myself, and began to pedal.
After several minutes, I completed the first session and rested briefly before proceeding again.
This time, I increased the number by five and pushed through five rounds.
After a while, I was already sweating and breathing heavily, panting on top of the machine.
“Here, drink some water,” David said, handing me a bottle.
Our hands brushed lightly as I reached out to take it.
I opened it and gulped down almost everything.
I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was.
“Slow down and drink properly so you don’t choke,” he warned.
I blinked in response and slowed down, finishing the rest before dropping the empty bottle beside me.
“Rest for a bit, then we’ll move to the treadmill section,” he said, pointing toward the east wing.
“I’m ready,” I replied after catching my breath, stepping down from the cycling machine as he led the way to the treadmill.
Once there, he asked me to get on while he adjusted the settings to a pace suitable for me.
The treadmill started moving slowly, and I followed in synchronization.
It began at a steady pace, then gradually increased.
I kept jogging, trying to match it.
Then suddenly, the speed increased sharply.
I missed my footing.
I stumbled backward.
I closed my eyes, already resigned to my fate as I waited for the impact of my fall.
A broken back.
A fractured arm.
Worse — my neck.
Or my head hitting the floor.
But instead, I fell into something—
Solid.
Warm.
Strong arms.
A beating heart.
Not again.