Marcus took a casual step forward, reaching out a hand to dismissively shove her shoulder.
It was the last mistake he ever made on his feet.
As Marcus’s hand extended, Elena moved. She didn't retreat; she exploded forward, slipping off the center line with a speed that defied the laws of physics and age. In a fraction of a second, she seized his outstretched wrist with her left hand, her grip like industrial vice grips, while her right hand shot up to grip the fabric of his rash guard behind his neck.
Four...
Marcus’s eyes widened in sudden, absolute shock. He tried to pull back, to use his massive strength to rip his arm away. But Elena wasn't fighting his strength; she was hijacking it. Using his own backward momentum, she pivoted sharply, her hips dropping below his center of gravity.
Five...
A perfect, flawless Ippon Seoi Nage.
Two hundred and ten pounds of pure muscle was launched into the air like a ragdoll. Marcus crashed into the canvas with a sound like a car accident. All the air violently evacuated his lungs in a sickening whump.
Six...