Chapter 45

OCTAVIA.

A single heartbeat stretched into eternity.

I tracked my opponent—every shift of his shoulder, twist of his hip, twitch of his fingers. His height and muscle pressed on me like a living wall. But I stayed grounded, every muscle coiled and ready.

He lunged. Muscle rolled under his skin, sinew taut and powerful, air brushing my face. His fist caught my cheek with a sharp sting. Pain shot through me, but I pivoted just enough that his punch missed my jaw. My palm shot forward, striking his sternum. The vibration traveled up my arm, through my core, anchoring me in the moment. Strength alone couldn’t guarantee this—precision did.

He swung a massive hook. I rolled, palms and knees scraping gritty dirt, gravel biting my skin. A glancing blow to my shoulder made me wince, but I pressed on.

A knee came for my midsection. I shifted back, letting his momentum carry him past, and countered with a palm jab to his chest, a knee thrust, a twist of my torso—all timed, precise, exploiting op