She didn’t answer.
Derek suddenly shoved me from behind.
That was the first time I became angry.
Not because he touched me.
Because he had waited until my back was turned.
My old self came forward like a door opening in a dark hallway.
I pivoted.
Captured his arm.
Swept his leg.
He hit the floor.
Before anyone understood what happened, his wrist was pinned behind him and my knee rested beside his shoulder.
Not on him.
Beside him.
Control without damage.
The entire exchange took perhaps two seconds.
Derek groaned.
I leaned closer.
“I spent six years learning how not to kill people by accident,” I said quietly. “You
spent six years learning how to look impressive on Instagram. Those are not the same education.”
Then I released him.
