Page 50 of Unmade

Beckett smiled at me. “Recruit Watts already volunteered.”

“I fucking did not,” I blurted out.

Tanner cracked up. “Can we place bets?”

I groaned and slapped a hand over my face.

“No, but you can shut the fuck up and pay attention,” Tenley replied. “This quick demo is as far as we’ll go today, and then we’re gonna take a few steps back and start at the beginning. Krav cannot be rushed, because the odds are stacked against the victim from the get-go. The truth is, in the reality of an actual attack, the stress we feel in that situation is usually so severe that we forget a significant amount of vital knowledge. In other words, repetition, repetition, repetition—from step one.”

Slow motion or not, I was screwed.

Tenley told everyone to make room, and I left my bag with all my protection off the mat. I guess I didn’t need any gear for a demonstrative beatdown.

“Shoes off too,” Tenley instructed.

I removed my shoes.

“Good luck, buddy!” Tanner clapped me on the back on his way to the sidelines.

“While Operator Beckett and recruit Watts get ready, I wanna tell you a bit more about this class,” Tenley said. “If you pass Hillcroft selection and go on to work in the field, chances are you won’t have any protective gear when you face an attacker. And since it’s my job to prepare you for real situations, we will eventually give up the gear. You’ll need it in the beginning when you start learning different strikes and combinations, but the point of really learning Krav Maga is to spar a lot—to reenact and prepare. You will need to suffer pain and milder damage in order to swallow up that initial shock of an ambush in the field.”

“Well said,” Beckett confirmed. “Now, what I’m going to do is mop the floor with recruit Watts, and consider that one of the rules in the unruly world of Krav Maga.Never fucking end up on the ground. In that position, you’re almost entirely defenseless, and you can’t reach the assailant’s vital organs.”

I blew out a breath and met Beckett at the center of the mat.

Tenley nodded. “Note that Operator Beckett said vital organs. You’ll hear me use the term weak points very often, and it can mean very different things. If you join a Krav club at a local gym, chances are they will teach you a choreographed dance of knee-to-groin, a chokehold to reach the carotid, and an elaborate three-step move to disarm someone. But we are definitely going for the vital spots that take someone down. Fuck the carotid arteries. At best, you’ll buy yourself a second extra. You wanna punch the fucker in the trachea instead. You wanna blind him, hammer-fist him in the temple or his ear, and kick his knee sideways.” He paused. “In order to swiftly go from underdog to having the advantage, you need to learn basic anatomy. Do you know exactly where to punch someone in the liver? Do you know what damage you can cause with a strike to a kidney? Last but not least, a genuine question—how long does a fight last?”

I chewed on the corner of my lip and glanced around me. Unlike Tanner, I didn’t stick my hand in the air at the first chance to throw out a guess—and I really didn’t know. Part of me wanted to say a fight lasted for however long it took to defeat the attacker?—

“For as long as it takes,” Tanner guessed.

Gabriella nodded. “Until you win.”

“While technically correct, it’s a fantasy answer,” Tenley replied. “The truth is,mostfights will be over within four to fifteen seconds. After that, even the toughest trained Green Beret will be exhausted. Hollywood can add half a minute—hell, more than that—but real self-defense is a sprint. You give your all from the very start. Soccer players stay on the field for two rounds of forty-five minutes. A hockey player needs a break after ninety seconds.”

Well, I was glad I hadn’t voiced my guess. What he said made sense.

“But for a demo, we’ll drag it out—Hollywood-style,” Tenley finished and gestured for Beckett. “Feel free to picture a car exploding in the background.”

He earned some chuckles from that.

Beckett played along too. “Jason Statham will play me.”

I cocked my head. “I’d say Christian Bale. You have the same hair, and he’s rocking the whole graying beard thing now.”

“Fuck me, that’s an image,” Tanner groaned.

Beckett shot me a look. “You keep inferring I’m ancient, you little shit.”

What the fuck? I threw out my arms. “He’s younger than Jason Statham, for fuck’s sake! And has a lot more hair!”

“We appreciate the foreplay, but you can begin now,” Tenley drawled.

Shit.

I cleared my throat as the others cracked up, and if I didn’t know better, Beckett wished he could take back the last few seconds too. He rubbed the back of his neck and was quick to tell everyone to shut up.

“All right, slow motion. Ish.” He was back to business, back to unreadable instructor—wait,ish?

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