Brash Neighbor’s Black-Belt Son Challenged a Single Mom — Unaware She Was a...
Chapter 4
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Maya looked down at Leo. She placed a gentle, warm hand on top of his head, running her fingers through his dark hair. She bent down and whispered softly into his ear, telling him that everything was perfectly fine, and asking him to step inside, lock the screen door, and stay near the living room window until she called him back out.Leo looked into his mother's eyes, saw absolute calm, nodded quietly, and slipped inside the house.Maya turned back toward the street.She stepped down the wooden porch stairs. Her footfalls were completely silent, her weight shifting effortlessly from heel to toe. Her hands hung loosely at her sides. She didn't roll up her sleeves. She didn't raise her fists. She didn't assume a fighting stance or take a deep breathing posture like Julian.She simply walked out to the edge of the asphalt, stopping two feet outside of Julian's immediate striking range.The heat radiating off the black pavement was intense. The neighborhood was dead quiet now. The only sound was the distant hum of an air conditioning unit and the light rustling of the oak leaves above.Arthur scoffed loudly, folding his arms across his chest. He turned to his son and told him to go easy on her—just sweep her legs out from under her, put her on her back, and show her.Julian smirked, stepping forward into a deep, formal front stance. He pulled his right fist back to his hip in a traditional chamber, his left hand extended in a guard. His eyes locked onto Maya with a mix of smugness and irritation. He told her that she still had five seconds to surrender, sign the paper, and save herself the embarrassment of being thrown into the gutter in front of the entire neighborhood.Maya didn't answer. She didn't speak a word.She simply stood there, perfectly centered, her shoulders relaxed, her breathing slow and steady. She looked directly into Julian's eyes. It was not a glare of anger or hatred; it was the unblinking, cold, analytical stare of a soldier who had looked into the eyes of armed insurgents in dark alleyways halfway across the world.For a fraction of a second, Julian's smirk flickered. An unexplainable chill ran down his spine. Something in her posture wasn't fitting the pattern his instructors had taught him: she wasn't cowering, her hands weren't trembling, her eyes weren't flinching, and she wasn't looking at his fists. She was tracking his core, reading his hips, anticipating his kinetic energy before he had even consciously decided to initiate a move.Annoyed by her utter lack of fear and eager to impress his father, Julian lost his patience. He dropped his sporting composure, shifted his weight to his back foot, and launched a lightning-fast, high-snapping front kick aimed directly at Maya's chest. He put the full power, speed, and technique of his black belt training into the strike, aiming to end the confrontation in a single, cinematic instant.To the neighbors watching from their windows, the kick looked like a blur of white canvas flying straight toward an undefended, motionless woman.