My fist connects with Dexter’s nose and I feel the simultaneous give of soft skin and bone.
I hear his grunt of pain and surprise, but before I can pull my arm back, he grabs my wrist, pulls me close, and knees me in the stomach. White-hot agony explodes in the back of my abdomen and I buckle, my knees going weak, ready to collapse.
But I don’t. Instead I take a deep breath, pushing all of my pain into a tight ball, and lunge at him, my nails ready to claw his eyes out. I barrel into him at full speed, but he doesn’t even stumble. Grabbing my upper arms in his unbreakable grip, Dexter throws me to the floor, the momentum bringing him down on top of me.
He straddles me, locking my arms and legs so I can’t move an inch, no matter how hard I thrash and kick. He isn’t even breathing heavily as he leans in close, a feral glint in his dark blue eyes. “Dirty fighting,” he says. “I like it. What now, Chuck Norris?”
In response, I bash my forehead into his and manage to stun him enough to buck him off of me. I jump up and bolt for the wide double doors on the other side of the gym, my arms pumping furiously at my sides, my breath coming in short little pants, and I’m almost there, almost there.
About eight feet away from my target, Dexter passes me, moving in front of the doors, blocking them with his body. I have to skid like a demented cartoon character so not to plow into him, my heavy combat boots pounding on the hardwood floor, my arms wind milling as I regain my balance.
We just stare at each other and for a moment, the only sound is my labored breathing. A bead of sweat rolls over my temple and down the side of my neck. Then Dexter speaks, tilting his head to one side, the blond curls around the edge of his scalp dark with perspiration. “Running away, Alba? Can’t fight your way out of this one? COME ON.” he bellows, throwing his arms up. “Think, Alba. THINK. There’s only one way out of here and it’s through me. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?”
He’s taunting me, and it works. In a flash, I bring my foot up, pull off my left combat boot, and chuck it right at his head. Dexter dodges, just like I knew he would, and I take advantage of his momentary distraction by sprinting towards the fire extinguisher mounted on the wall. With a grunt, I pull it out of its holster, activating the automatic fire sprinklers and within seconds, it’s raining.
Dexter kicks out at me and I bring the fire extinguisher up to block it. His booted foot cracks against the metal, just missing my fingers. Not pausing for even a second, Dexter spins, his hand coming up to knock the fire extinguisher out of my own but for once I’m faster, and drive it into his ribs. He doubles over with a groan and I whack him in the back of his blond head, bringing him to his knees. Before I can move away, Dexter karate chops the back of my knee and I fall, the fire extinguisher flying out of my hands and rolling across the flooded floor. I start crawling towards it, splashing stagnant water, but Dexter grabs my ankle and pulls me back to him. I flip over onto my back and move to slam the bottom of my remaining combat boot into his face as hard as I can, but he realizes what I’m doing a second before I do it and jerks his entire body back to avoid the blow.
Free, I jump up and reach into my boot, pulling out the small black pocket knife inside. I flip it open, grip the hilt with both hands, and raise it over my head. Dexter’s still on his knees, looking up at me as I bring the switchblade down vertically to slash his face open. He raises both hands and catches it between his palms, the tip of the knife an inch away from his face. My eyes widen and I don’t have a second to react as he moves his hands to my wrists, pulls himself up, and knees me in the elbow. This, of course, forces me to drop my knife and when it hits the ground, Dexter kicks it across the room. I throw my body into a roundhouse kick to his neck but he catches my foot, swings me around, and throws me to the floor.
I roll a couple of times and end up on my back, coughing. I try to sit up but Dexter straddles me once again, grabs a fistful of my dark hair, and yanks my head back down to the floor hard enough that I see stars. I raise my chin and bite into his forearm, tasting his blood, but Dexter doesn’t even react—he just calmly raises the hand that isn’t tangled in my hair, takes my chin, and forces me to look at him. I notice the blood crusting around his obviously broken nose and feel a pang of triumph. When he speaks, Dexter’s deep voice is muffled, making him sound a lot like Elmer Fudd. I want to laugh, but his death grip on my jaw makes that impossible. “Its bad form to bite, Alba.” he tells me, amused despite the crimson blood dripping from his arm onto my white t-shirt. “Rude, you know. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”
Well, if he thought that was rude, what I do next is gonna rock his world.
Instead of answering him, I drive both knees straight up. Dexter lets out a groan that’s a few octaves higher than normal and falls over, both hands going to his nether regions. I roll over and straddle him, my hands going to his throat. I press down hard on his windpipe, my curly hair hanging down over my face, wet and clotted with blood. Dexter sputters and it takes me a few seconds to make out what he’s saying.
“Okay. Okay, Alba. I give. I GIVE.”
Slowly, I remove my hands and sit up straight, crossing my arms. “Well?” I ask, still straddling him, a smug smile crossing my undoubtedly massacred face.
Dexter grins up at me, one hand rubbing at his neck, which is looking a little pink. “Not bad.” he says, his voice scratchy. “Not bad at all. You’re definitely improving.”
