The male instructor pauses, glaring at us with irritation. “We have certified professionals leading this class. Please hold questions until the end.”
“Not a question,” Jade mutters under his breath.
He must catch Jade’s words, because his posture shifts, chin up and shoulders squaring with classic dominant Alpha bullshit.
My instincts bristle, ready to put him in his place.But doing so would ruin this for my friend, so I focus on Micah, who tries to adjust his footing based on Jade’s comment.
“You’re telegraphing every move,” I tell Micah. “Your eyes dart to where you’re going to strike before you do it.”
The instructor’s jaw tightens. He straightens, abandoning his demonstration to stride toward Jade and me. The room falls silent as attention shifts to our corner.
His hands land on his hips as he stops in front of us. “Perhaps our critics would like to demonstrate the proper technique?”
“We’re observing,” I reply, keeping my spine straight and my focus on his shoulder. Alphas with wounded pride are unpredictable, and this one’s scent carries notes of agitation.
“You know what? I’d like to show what happens during a real surprise attack.” The instructor’s smile doesn’t reach past his lips. “Most assailants won’t announce themselves or give you time to set your stance.”
His hand clamps down on my shoulder, spinning me around. His other arm locks across my chest, pulling me backward. My feet leave the ground for asickening moment before my back slams into the mat with his body on top of me.
The gym vanishes, and I’m fifteen again, face pressed into cold concrete, a guard’s knee digging between my shoulder blades.“Stay down, if you don’t want to get torn up more than necessary.”
My vision narrows to pinpricks of light, and my body moves before thought catches up.
I buck hard, and the instructor’s hold disintegrates like wet paper. His arm slips where I want it, and I twist.
He howls and collapses to the side, clutching his wrist, but I’m already rolling with him, pinning him with a knee driven into the soft spot below his ribs.
He sucks in air. “Get?—”
I cut him off with a forearm pressed across his throat. “Did you just fucking try to use Command on me?”
No one has the right to try to take away control of my body, least of all this posturing pissant of an Alpha. My vision tunnels, black creeping in at the edges, memories bleeding into now.
Cold concrete.
A boot next to my cheek.
The heaviness of an unwanted man on top of me.
The instructor wheezes, turning blotchy red.Someone shouts my name. Someone else gasps. Feet scramble backward on the mats, the whole room retreating.
He drives a knee upward in one of the classic moves he thinks can save his life. It doesn’t come close to landing, but the attempt snaps the last frayed thread in my restraint.
A snarl tears from my throat, and my hand clamps around his jaw, thumb hooking close to his eye socket.
“Saint.” Jade’s voice cuts through the haze. Controlled. Steady. Very, very aware of how one wrong move could escalate this beyond repair.
I don’t look at him.
The instructor thrashes again, and I slam him back down, knuckles cracking on the mat. His breath leaves in a pitiful choke. He’s done, but my body doesn’t care. My pulse hammers, drowning out everything but the ghost of hands pinning me down years ago.
“Saint.” Jade crouches beside me now. He’s close enough for me to catch the bitter scent of his adrenaline, but he remains in control. “He’s tapping out.”
Only then do I register the instructor’s good hand slapping the mat weakly in a universal sign ofsurrender.
I don’t loosen my grip.
Jade moves only when further hesitation will result in a fatality. His palm settles on the side of my neck, not in challenge but to provide contact to bring me back to myself. “Breathe. You’ve already won.”
