Without waiting for an answer, he charged at Jada like a bull, all brute force and no technique. Jada sank smoothly into a low horse stance, her pleated skirt settling around her knees. As Trip reached her, she moved with the practiced grace of thousands of training hours. Her parry was almost gentle, redirecting his force in a circular motion that left him grasping at air. In one continuous movement, she pivoted, using Trip's own momentum against him.
His eyes widened in shock as his feet left the ground. The next instant, he slammed onto his back with a heavy thud that knocked the wind from his lungs. Derek, still staring at the space where his phone had been, spotted a discarded lacrosse stick near one of the parked cars. He snatched it up, gripping the aluminum shaft like a weapon. "You're going to pay for that phone!"
He swung the stick in a wild arc aimed at Jada's head. But she was already moving, flowing like water inside his guard. Her hands found his wrist with surgical precision, applying pressure to exactly the right points. Derek's fingers sprang open involuntarily, releasing the stick before it could complete its arc. In the next breath, Jada executed a textbook armbar.
Derek's elbow straightened against its natural bend as she guided him downward. She controlled his descent to the pavement, ensuring he landed without injury despite his attempt to hurt her. Sloan, watching his brother go down, let out a roar of frustration. He dropped his shoulder and charged, trying to tackle Jada around the waist. But she read his intention before he'd taken two steps.
Shifting her weight, she sidestepped his rush with the grace of a matador. As Sloan stumbled past, Jada's foot swept his leading leg out from under him. Before he could recover, her fingers found the pressure point above his elbow. The crane beak pinch sent sharp signals of pain through his arm, and he let out a high-pitched yelp. But Jada's control was perfect.
The joint remained intact, though thoroughly immobilized. Trip had managed to get his breath back. He pushed himself up, face contorted with fury. His designer shoes scrabbled against the asphalt as he launched himself at Jada again, throwing a wild haymaker that telegraphed his intentions from a mile away. Jada ducked smoothly under the punch.
Her leopard fist strike to his solar plexus was precisely calibrated. Enough force to empty his lungs, but not enough to cause lasting damage. As Trip doubled over, gasping, he fumbled for his phone, trying to film what was happening. Jada's palm heel strike caught the device perfectly, spider-webbing its screen into useless fragments. Behind her, Derek had struggled to his feet one more time.
He tried to creep up on her, but Jada's awareness extended in all directions. Without even turning her head, she dropped into a spinning back kick that caught him square in the thigh. His leg went numb instantly, and as he toppled, Jada's guiding hand ensured he slid harmlessly into his brother. The twins ended up tangled together. Their pristine varsity jackets now streaked with dirt and gravel.
Their matching expressions of shock would have been comical under other circumstances. Luna stood between two parked cars, Derek's phone steady in her hands as she captured every moment. "Oh my god," she breathed, her amazement clear in her voice. Jada straightened up, her breathing as calm and measured as if she'd just finished a light workout. Her eyes swept the parking lot checking for any other threats.
Finding none, she moved to Caleb's side and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. In the sudden quiet, police sirens wailed in the distance growing louder as they approached down Oakmont Street. Luna lowered the phone, her face serious. "They'll want this," she said softly, holding up the device that had captured everything. Jada nodded once reaching down to retrieve her satchel from where she'd set it aside.
"Stay behind me, Caleb," she said, her voice steady and certain. "This isn't over yet." The first police cruiser turned into the lot, its red and blue lights painting the scene in alternating colors. Sunlight glinted off the scattered fragments of Trip's shattered phone screen and the puddle of spilled milk, silent witnesses to a confrontation where skill and discipline had prevailed over blind aggression. Later, in the warm familiarity of the Hollis living room, Jada carefully cleaned the scrapes on Caleb's knees while Mama D hovered nearby, her hands twisting her apron with worry.