I didn’t just let him miss. I helped him. As he lunged past me, stumbling under his own inertia, my right hand shot out. I placed my palm flat against his shoulder blade and shoved.
“Whoa!” Kyle yelped.
He was falling forward, exposing his back. Target exposed. Execute.
I moved in. My body flowed like water. I kicked the back of his knee—a sharp, precise strike to the popliteal fossa. His leg buckled. He dropped to his knees with a grunt.
Before he could process that he
