Chapter 5 - THE INCH OF SPACE
Blake didn't wait.
Capitalizing on Damon’s lack of a guard, Blake exploded forward off his back foot with terrifying speed. He launched a heavy, professional right cross straight toward the center of Damon’s jaw—a strike meant to knock the plumber out cold in front of the entire gym.
The punch carried the full momentum of an elite athlete's body weight behind it.
Damon didn't throw his hands up. He didn't take a dramatic step back.
At the absolute last fraction of a microsecond, as the knuckles of Blake’s glove were less than two inches from his chin, Damon simply tilted his head three-quarters of an inch to the left.
WHOOSH.
The displacement of air from Blake’s fist whipped past Damon’s right ear, brushing the loose strands of his hair. The punch missed completely.
Blake’s eyes widened in sudden, jarring shock. His strike had hit nothing but empty air, carrying his shoulder forward and compromising his balance.
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Before Blake could retract his arm, Damon shifted his left heel a single inch to the right.
It wasn't a kickboxing step; it was a tight, hyper-efficient combat pivot—a movement designed to dissipate kinetic energy while positioning the body inside an opponent's blind spot. Damon didn't strike. He simply allowed Blake's forward momentum to carry him past, his shoulder lightly brushing against Blake's sweat-slicked chest with the effortless weight of a mountain.
