ARTEMIS’ POV
I throw a few more fist blows at my half-dead punch bag, which is bleeding sand all over the floor through the rip I made in the heat of my anger.
Kamila stands there, breathing hard and fast. I guess her so-called visit didn’t turn out the way she hoped.
I saw it in her eyes—the way they widened each time I gave a response she wasn’t expecting, responses that pointed toward me not wanting her here.
I wonder what demented expectations she had coming here after what she did. I must have burst that bubble of hers.
She huffs and finally stomps out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Now, I can finally focus my attention on other things, more important things to distract myself.
Like getting a new punching bag, for example.
“That was harsh,” Jasper comment
