Reaches instead—
Knife.
Of course.
Close quarters.
Smart.
I holster mine.
Step in.
Because this?
This ends up close anyway.
We collide hard.
Impact shakes through both of us.
He’s strong.
Fast.
Trained.
But so am I.
He swings—
I block—
Counter—
Drive him back into the wall.
Concrete cracks.
He grins.
Actually grins.
“Been a while since someone pushed back,” he says.
I don’t answer.
Don’t waste breath.
I go again.
Harder.
We trade blows.
Fists.
Elbows.
