I sprawled.
My bad knee screamed.
I ignored it.
My right forearm slid across the back of his neck.
My left hand controlled his wrist.
For half a second, I had a path to a choke.
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.
