"Three minutes," old man Jenkins called out from ringside, acting as the impromptu referee.
"Keep it clean. Touch gloves."
Marcus stepped forward, dropping his hands, offering a contemptuous tap of his gloves against
hers. "Ready for your lesson, sweetie?"
Jenkins hit the bell. *Ding.*
Marcus didn't waste time. He wanted a quick, humiliating show. He lunged forward immediately,
throwing a heavy, looping right hook aimed at Elena's head. It was a reckless punch, telegraphed
miles away, born of complete disrespect for his opponent.
Elena didn't block it. She didn't step back. Instead, she slipped.