The Mindf*ck Series

Chapter 5

𝘛𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴.
- 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘶𝘴

𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗔

I dodge a slow punch from Duke, smirking at how easy he’s taking it on me. He wants me to have some skillset in case things get out of hand. He walked in and demanded we spar so he can see what I need to work on.

He’s weak on his left side, constantly leaving himself open to attack.

His form is sloppy, amateur boxing style at best. Most likely he was raised in a militant household where the father showed him a few techniques— archaic and outdated techniques.

In a real fight, I’d have him pinned and begging for mercy in under two minutes.

But I’m supposed to be a normal girl. I eat an excess of calories daily to stay a little soft, hiding the skill behind femininity so that I don’t tone up too much and cast a sheet of transparency over my façade.

Duke is grinning when I throw a weak, pathetic little punch at his left.

He easily bats it down, and I bite back the smirk I want to reveal. I love little secrets.

There’s a certain high you get from fooling the world into thinking you’re the lamb instead of the rabid wolf.

“Alright. Let’s train on the wall. Plemmons always chokes the women to the brink of unconsciousness. I’m going to show you how to break the hold, and you’re going to replicate it.”

I nod, following along as he wipes sweat off his brow. It’s good he’s not as apt at profiling as Logan. He’d notice I’m not sweating, meaning I’m in better physical shape than he is. You can’t fake sweat.

He stands against the wall and gestures for me.

“Hands on my throat.”

I do as instructed, overlapping my thumbs as I form a choking hold with my hands. It’s a terribly inefficient way to choke someone. A little bit of wire does the trick much better.

He grins down at me as I tighten my hold, and his arms dart up between mine, shoving them open in a blink. He spins me, and I let him, fighting really damn hard against my reflexes as he slams me against the wall. His hands go around my neck, and he arches an eyebrow as he squeezes just tight enough to piss me off.

“Do what I just did. Okay?” he asks, squeezing a hair tighter.

I feign imitation, acting as though I’m struggling to mirror his earlier movements, when I hear the door shut and something drop.

“What the fucking hell?” Logan’s voice has me grinning, but when I try to move, Duke holds me steady, gripping tighter to my neck.

“She needs to be prepared,” Duke says, tightening even more.

When breathing actually becomes difficult, my mind shuts down the little fuse that holds back my reflexes, and my hand shoots up between the stupid gap he’s left between our bodies.