It shouldn’t annoy her. But it did.
“Come on,” Vivi said, heading for the exit. “Let’s get you back to your room.”
Claire didn’t argue. She was too tired to argue. Too tired to think. Too tired to do anything but follow Vivi down the corridor to her room.
“Try to sleep,” Vivi said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
But sleep was impossible.
Claire lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing. Derek had been in her apartment. Had touched her phone. Had installed spyware and watched her for months. Had known where she lived, where she worked, who she talked to.
Had known about Lily. Had maybe been there the night Lily died. The thought made her sick.
She sat up, checked the time. She’d been lying here for nearly two hours, and sleep felt impossible.
Grabbing a sweatshirt, she pulled it on over her tank top. Maybe walking would help. Maybe moving would quiet her brain.
Bobcat jumped to attention when she emerged. “Everything okay?”
Security lights cast long shadows. She could hear the hum of electronics from the ops room, the distant sound of someone typing—probably Lynx, who seemed never to sleep.
“Can I use the gym?”
His brows drew down. “Let me clear it with the Commander.” He spoke into his radio quietly, then nodded when Wolf’s voice responded. “You're good to go."
Claire followed him, hoping against hope that Wolf was still there. She needed to get away. Away from the lifeless, generic room. Away from her spinning thoughts.
They arrived at the gym. The door was cracked open, light spilling into the hallway. And inside?—
Wolf.
He was hitting a heavy bag with brutal efficiency. No gloves—just bare fists and controlled fury. His shirt was discarded on the floor, his upper body slick with sweat. Every punch landed with precision, the bag swinging on its chain.
Claire should leave, should go back to her room. She should not stand here watching him work out his demons.
But she couldn’t move. Because she recognized what she was seeing. It wasn’t just exercise. It wasn’t just blowing off steam.
It was rage. Pure, controlled, barely contained rage.
He hit the bag again and again. Hard enough that his knuckles were bleeding.
“You’re going to break your hands,” Claire said, walking in.
Wolf froze mid-punch. Turned. His eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, she saw something raw in his expression. Something that looked like pain.
Then it was gone. Professional distance sliding back into place.
“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was steady, controlled, like he hadn’t just been beating a bag bloody.
“No.” Claire stepped into the gym. “You?”
“Don’t need much.”
“Because you’re superhuman?”
He grabbed a towel and wiped his face. “What are you doing here, Claire?”
Bobcat stood at the door. “Should I stay?”
