I hesitate and stare at the guys around. “I . . . well . . . I don’t have a choice.”
He sighs and rubs his head. “I’m sorry, Blair. I gotta do what I gotta do. The best I can do for you is give you a fighting chance.”
My eyes swell with tears. “I understand,” I croak.
His face softens but I see his jaw tic. He leans down close. “Is there someone I can get a message to?”
My heart swells with hope.
“Hey!” one of the men barks. “Back up.”
Damon stands straight before I can answer him. “Keep your knickers on,” he barks at him.
The guy glares at Damon, but eventually turns his focus away. Damon looks back to me and steps closer again, but not close enough to have a quiet conversation.
“For a girl, there are a few basics you need to know when it comes to defending yourself.”
I nod, swallowing my tears back.
“You’re tiny, but that can be an advantage. Anyone who says a fighter has to be huge is living in a fantasy. You have the chance to duck and hit those sensitive lower parts. You can duck away from a punch much easier than most. That’s what we’re going to focus on.”
He puts his hands on my shoulders and whispers. “The contact, get it to me.”
I nod.
“Right, first things. Spread your legs a bit more. You want a good stance at all times, you can’t be losing your footing at a vital time.”
I spread my legs a little and he nods.
“You keep your fists up as much as you can unless, of course, you’re on the floor.”
He takes my fists and raises them in a fighter stance.
“If your opponent is bigger than you—which I imagine most will be—don’t let it put you off. Focus on what’s in front of you. If you can easily hit a stomach, or ribs, or, hell, a pelvis, then do it.”
I nod again, feeling my heart thudding.
“So,” he says, holding my fists in his large hands. “Most people are going to go straight for the face, it’s almost always the case. You see a fist, you duck. While you’re ducking, you go in for whatever you can. Remember this—it hurts just as much for a woman to get a fist to the junk as it does for a man. If you can get a hit there, go for it. The other sensitive place is the breasts—however, more often than not they’re taped. Doesn’t matter, though, I’d imagine it still hurts like a bastard.”
I cringe. It would.
“The next best place is the ribs. When you go for a rib jab, go direct. Don’t dance around it.”
He takes my fist and brings it to his ribcage. “Right here is the weakest part. Hit it hard and fast. Twice if you can.”
He raises my fist to his sternum. “Here is enough to put your opponent in a temporary pain haze. While they’re winded, you go in for anything else.”
He moves my hand to his throat. “Throat punch—works every time if you can get a clear shot. It will take the breath from their lungs and for a second it will feel like they can’t breathe. You hit hard and you make it good. Their hands will automatically go up to their throat—while they’re up it’s leaving the stomach, groin and legs free. Go for the groin over the stomach, which will cause them to double over. When they’re down, put a swift kick to the face to bring them down.”
I swallow and drop my head, sighing. “I can’t do this, I just . . . I can’t hurt someone else.”
“Listen to me,” he says, lifting my chin and forcing me to look at him. “These girls, they’re not going to hold back. The fights he’s got planned for you are a fight or die kind of situation. You can’t afford to be afraid.”
“I didn’t ask for any of this . . .”
“No one does,” he smiles weakly. “But you gotta do what you can to survive. No matter the situation.”
I nod and stand up straighter.
“Now, the most important thing in a fight is watching your opponent. Watch their body, watch the way their eyes focus and their arms flinch. Try to understand which way they’re going to hit. Sometimes it’s too fast and that’s impossible, but you never take your eyes off them.”
He lets my hand go and steps back.
“We’re going to do some basics. I’ll come at you—don’t worry, I won’t hit you—and you need to give me your best reaction.”
He launches his fist toward my face and I try desperately to remember what he said about that. I’m too slow—he bops my cheek softly.
“I can’t do this,” I panic. “I will die before I get a hit in.”
He looks me dead in the eye. “You’ll only die if you allow yourself to. You have to be angry, you have to be determined. Do you want to get out of here?”
I make a pained sound and whisper, “More than anything.”
“Then you fight and you fight with everything you are. Find it, girl, and use it.”
I nod and straighten my shoulders. “Again.”
He slowly swings his fist toward my face and I duck just in the last second, pushing my fist out until it hits his abdomen hard. He makes an oomphing sound and I groan as my knuckles ache. He’s got abs of steel. I don’t stop, though, when he brings a knee up and I duck to the side and swing around to his back, lifting my leg and shoving it into his hip, sending him stumbling forward. He spins around with a grin.
“Yes!”
I beam.
“Again.”