Yield

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An extra long update tonight!

I hope you're all doing well and staying warm!

I've been getting a few questions about my update schedule, so I thought I'd write it out here for any new readers:

During the school semesters, I usually update at least twice a week.  As it is the holidays and I'm home on break, my schedule will probably be a bit more random and there may be fewer updates than normal.

Basically, I try to update whenever I can.

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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Air rushed from her lungs as she was slammed into the cushioned mat.

She struggled against him, pushing her hands against his shoulders as hard as she could.

Her hair fell into her eyes as she tried to fling her head forward toward his nose.

Thrashing against his tight hold, she tried and failed to roll out from beneath him.

Anxiety pulsed within her, but her adrenaline didn't seem to be enough.

"Think." He said through grit teeth, his body twisting to avoid her punch.

Sweat trickled down Enid's back as she tried to halt the vicious storm of thoughts swirling and tangling in her mind.

Suddenly, she went still beneath him, her breaths still coming out in harsh pants.

His emerald eyes met hers in confusion before they tightened with pain.

She had kneed him right between the legs.

"Cazzo!" Dante's Italian came out mangled as he rolled off her and clutched a certain area.

"I'm sorry!" Enid rushed to lean over him, concern flushed across her face.

"No, no, little bird. You did good. Best you've done all day. I'm proud of you." He patted her worried hands, his voice still tight with discomfort.

"I can go get you some ice..." She bit her lip, ready to stand up.

"I'll be fine, sweet girl. Come lay with me." He pulled her to lay beside him on the practice mat.

She tucked her head against his bare chest, uncaring of how sweaty they both were.

They had been practicing for hours in the underground training room and her body was incredibly sore.

Self-defense was much harder than she expected.

Enid hadn't ever considered herself physically fit, but she hadn't realized just how little strength she had to draw on.

Dante said that could be helpful, though.

She was tiny, so she was much quicker than most possible attackers would be.

And she could build up her strength over time.

He said she had potential.

And then he had attacked her.

Again.

And again.

Over and over her back met the black mat, over and over she failed to escape.

It was hard not to get discouraged.

Because Dante wasn't even fully trying.

She started watching his face around the fifth or sixth round.

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