Page 96 of Captive of Outlaws

The whole space smells of sweat and determination as I stand awkwardly, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. After some breakfast, a shower, and a metric boatload of coffee, I changed into the most athletic outfit I could piecetogether from Jack’s trunk: a black sports bra and a pair of dark blue leggings. On a whim, I wove my hair into two French-braid pigtails, a look that seems to amuse LJ as he strides across the floor to meet me.

“Cute,” he says, flicking the end of a pigtail.

I swat him away. “It’s how UFC girls wear their hair, right? Figured they know what they’re doing.”

He shrugs, his muscles rippling beneath his fitted black tank. “You’re not wrong.”

A moment passes, and with it, the tension I was feeling. If we were going to touch on the fact that he basically saw me and Rob have sex, that time has passed. LJ is clearly all business now.

“Come on,” he says, nodding towards the sparring area. “Shoes off. Barefoot.”

I toe off my sneakers and peel off my socks, then scramble after him to the mats. He stands like a soldier at attention, hands folded at the small of his back.

“Okay, first things first,” he says, his voice low and steady. “Always trust your instincts. If something feels wrong, it probably is. Got it?”

I nod, trying to push away the nervous fluttering in my stomach. Trusting my instincts has never been my strong suit, especially now that nothing I thought I knew about myself is even true. But with LJ standing before me, exuding confidence, I find myself wanting to believe.

“What do you do if someone attacks you?” he asks. I’m taken aback by the bluntness of the question, but stand my ground.

“Go for the jugular,” I joke.

LJ doesn’t laugh. “Wrong,” he says. “You don’t panic.Remember, a clear head is your best weapon. Flailing and spiraling wastes energy and wastes time.”

“Oh,” I say. “Okay.” It does make sense.

“Self-defense is called self-defense for a reason. It’s not offense. It’s not attacking back. It’s keeping yourself safe so you can escape. Don’t try to be a hero.”

“Don’t be a hero,” I repeat.

That gets a little snort of amusement out of him. He releases his stance, takes a step, then two, around me, circling. “Don’t waste the effort trying to incapacitate anyone totally. Because no offense, Princess? You’re not going to overpower anyone.”

“None taken,” I say. “So—”

In a flash, before I can finish my question, he’s lunged for me. One swift movement and he’s caught my neck in his elbow, wrenching my right arm behind my back.

“Ah!”

He’s strong, sure, pure power in motion. My knees thud into the padded floor as LJ pushes me down. But just as soon as I hit, he releases me.

“See?” he says, towering over me. “And I was barely even trying.”

I scowl up at him, rubbing my neck. “I get it,” I say shortly. “You’ve made your point. So whatdoI do?”

LJ offers me a hand, and I take it, warm and firm. He pulls me to my feet.

“Keep your distance,” he says. “That’s move number one. Always try to create space between you and your attacker. They can’t grab you if they can’t get near you.”

I nod. “Logical enough.”

“Next,” he barks. “Go for the weak spots. Eyes, nose,throat. Anything to incapacitate your attacker long enough to get away.”

He demonstrates a simple jab, his movements fluid and precise, then steps to my side.

Like this,” he says, guiding my hand through the motion. “Keep your elbow tucked in and aim for the center of your target.”

I mimic his actions, feeling a surge of satisfaction when he nods approvingly. “Good,” he says, his eyes meeting mine. “Now, let’s try something else.”

He shows me how to throw a proper punch, the weight of my body behind it. At first, I do it all wrong: thumb tucked, spinning my whole torso around, feet too close together, but with after a few tries and corrections from LJ, I start to get the hang of it. He’s surprisingly patient, guiding me through each step until it starts to feel natural.

---