Page 18 of Out for Blood
A strike snaps through my guard, and I deflect, reset, and come back harder.
He blocks and counters.
This continues, the back-and-forth.
Sweat drips down my face as I wipe it away with the back of my hand, pulling in a steady breath. I stay light on my feet, hands up, determined.
“Again!” he barks when he sees me getting winded.
I rein in my temper and go again with more intensity.
This time, he’s not ready.
He stumbles and goes down.
I don’t think twice.
I’m on him straightaway, driving forward, targeting his face. He grunts, blocking what he can, trying to throw me off with his weight but my legs clamp around him.
The noise surrounding me melts away and my focus narrows to a single point. Everything beyond the target in front of me blurs, punch after punch, until I hear it.
Tap.Tap.Tap.
I push away from him and stand, chest heaving, going straight to my corner. I snatch my water, take a deep gulp, then dump the rest over my face, letting it run down, cooling me off.
Taking a deep, profound breath, centering myself.
I duck through the ropes and head for the heavy bag.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I continue to unload as each strike hits with more force than the one before.
This is where it all started. That mat. That moment.
Rising from the wreckage, clawing out of that place of brokenness.
I started with basic self-defense, then pushed into kickboxing and mixed martial arts. Tae Kwon Do and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu followed. I am still working toward black belts in both, each one demanding persistent discipline.
Krav Maga is where I thrive. Reality-based. Brutal. It changedme into something built for hand-to-hand combat. The training is unforgiving, and I’m still climbing toward that black belt too.
Every step is reshaping me into something stronger.
Before shattering on that gym floor, I was a victim; now I’m a survivor.
I come to an abrupt halt, sensing him before I ever see him.
Tyler.
On the far side of the gym, he is lifting weights with Leonardo.
My attention switches to him.
Shirtless, ink maps his arms and spans his chest with my name clearly woven into the design over his heart.
A restless yearning stirs within me, a fierce need building to have him inside me again.
The lights above spill over him, glinting off the metal in his nipples. I smile as the memory surfaces. He saw mine, understood it without explanation, and chose to shoulder part of the burden.
