Half an hour later, Joel is loose, focused, and we’ve refined the messier parts of his sequence. Now, it’s time to run the full thing.
The group gathers along the mats as Joel and I take our positions.
The sequence begins smoothly—Joel dodging, blocking, countering. I tackle him to the ground, rolling into a pin. He fights his way out, executing the kip-up flawlessly, springing back to his feet in one powerful motion. From there, we move into hand-to-hand combat, shifting fluidly across the mats.
And then-
A sudden wave of Finn's scent crashes over me, stronger than ever before.
My breath hitches, and that split second of distraction costs me.
I don’t register Joel’s next move fast enough, and his punch lands solidly against my face. I feel a sharp crack—my nose breaking on impact.
