Chapter 3 - Anger Leaves Doors Open
Thorne threw the first punch like he wanted the crowd to feel it.
Nora slipped outside it.
The second came heavier.
She let it pass over her shoulder with inches to spare.
The soldiers who had been laughing went quiet in uneven pieces.
One man near the fence muttered, “She’s reading him.”
Another said nothing, but lowered his phone.
Thorne kept pressing.
Wild pressure.
Big movement.
Hard breathing.
Everything in his body told Nora what he was about to do before he did it.
Anger is honest that way.
It reveals.
Nora stepped in as his third strike loaded.
She trapped his arm, turned her hips, and swept his planted leg in one sharp motion.
Thorne crashed onto his back hard enough to send dust lifting around his shoulders.
The field gasped.
The referee shouted, “Break it up!”
Nora had already stepped away.
Clean.
Controlled.
No extra hit.
No need.
Thorne slammed one palm into the dirt and surged up, face red, pride burning hotter than the Texas sun.
“Stay down,” the referee warned.
But Thorne was not listening.
He was looking at Nora like she had stolen something from him.
Maybe she had.
Not victory.
Certainty.
May you like
He charged again.
Nora’s expression did not change.
