Page 124 of Rescuing Mia
“Perfect. We’ll start with the basics of Krav Maga. It’s designed to be practical and effective, focusing on real-world situations.”
I step closer, the proximity making my heart race a little faster. “First, let’s work on your stance. Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, and keep your hands up to protect your face.”
She follows my instructions, mimicking my stance. I adjust her posture slightly, my hands brushing against her arms. “Good. Now,if someone comes at you, you want to use their momentum against them.”
I demonstrate a basic move, showing her how to deflect an incoming punch. “Your turn,” I say, stepping back.
Mia hesitates for a moment, then tries the move. It’s a bit awkward, but she gets the general idea. I step closer again, my hands guiding her through the motion.
“Try to keep your movements fluid,” I say softly, my voice close to her ear. “Like this.” I move with her, our bodies almost in sync, the physical closeness stirring something deeper.
She practices the move a few more times, each attempt more confident than the last. “That’s it,” I encourage. “You’re doing great.”
We move on to other techniques—blocks, strikes, escapes from holds. Each move requires us to be close, our bodies brushing against each other. The contact is electrifying, a reminder of the connection we share.
“Let’s try a takedown,” I suggest. “If someone grabs you from behind, you can use their grip to your advantage.”
I demonstrate, showing her how to leverage her weight to throw an attacker off balance. She watches intently, and then we switch roles.
“Alright, grab me,” I instruct.
Mia reaches out, her hands tentative but firm on my shoulders. “Like this?”
“Exactly. Now, shift your weight and pivot your hips. Use the momentum to bring me down.”
She does as instructed, and I find myself on the mat, looking up at her with a grin. “Perfect. You’re a natural.”
She laughs, the sound light and free. “I’m not sure about that. You gave me that one, but this is fun.”
We practice a few more moves. Each successful technique boosts her confidence.
After a while, we pause to catch our breath. I take a moment to appreciate the sight of her—determined, strong, and resilient. She’s come so far, and seeing her like this fills me with pride.
“You’re doing really well.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “You’re a lot tougher than you think.”
She meets my gaze, her eyes shining with gratitude and something else—something deeper.
They shine with love.
Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away. It’s just us here in this vast complex, finding strength in each other. The moment’s intensity is almost overwhelming, and I feel a pull toward her, a desire to close the distance between us.
But before I can act on it, she steps back, breaking the spell. “We should probably get ready for that meeting with Ethan,” she says, her voice tinged with a hint of regret.
“Yeah,” I agree, shaking off the momentary daze. “Let’s get cleaned up and head over.”
Back in our dormitory, getting cleaned up involves more than just a quick shower. The heat between us from the training session spills over, and we find ourselves tangled together in a passionate embrace. The intimacy is a welcome relief from the constant tension, and for a little while, we lose ourselves in each other.
Afterward, as we dress and prepare to leave, there’s a new understanding between us. An unspoken acknowledgment of the bond that’s been forged through fire and fear.
We head to the Charlie team bullpen and then to the adjacent conference room. The team is already assembled, and their faces turn toward us as we enter.
We take our seats, the atmosphere thick with anticipation. Ethan begins the briefing, his voice steady and authoritative.
“The only way to keep Mia truly safe is to make it appear as if she’s dead. We had her disappear from the trawler, but we can’t be one hundred percent sure the submarine activity wasn’t picked up or that there wasn’t a drone far ahead that watched the whole thing. We have to operate on the assumption that Red Phoenix still believes Mia is alive.”
Hank leans forward, his fingers tapping the table rhythmically. “If they think she’s alive, they’ll keep looking for her. Facial recognitionsoftware could catch a photo of her face and identify her anywhere she goes.”
Blake nods, his arms crossed over his chest. “Mia’s been safe on Guardian HRS grounds and will remain so as long as she’s here, but she can’t stay here for the rest of her life. We need to come up with a way to fake her death convincingly.”