I released it.
Derek scrambled backward.
The room had gone almost completely silent.
The digital clock mounted above the cage read:
4:11 REMAINING.
Derek stared at me.
“You wrestle?”
“A little.”
That irritated him more than an insult would have.
He rushed forward.
I could see Claire saying something from the edge of the mat, but I couldn’t hear her over the blood pulsing in my ears.
Derek threw a knee.
I stepped inside it.
My palm struck his chest—not hard, merely enough to break his balance.
Then I hooked his ankle.
He hit the mat flat on his back.
The crowd made a collective sound.
Not cheering now.
Confusion.
Derek rolled instantly and jumped up.
His face had gone red.
“Lucky.”
I wiped the blood from my lip.
“Probably.”
He attacked again.
This time he stopped trying to impress anyone.
No flashy combinations.
No spinning kick.
He came to hurt me.
