Chapter 2 - The Lever and the Lock
Derek’s pride was far too swollen for his brain to register the imminent danger he was in. Even with Marissa shrieking from the porch, he scoffed, tightening his grip on my wrist again.
“I don’t care about some fake internet video—”
He never got to finish the sentence.
Before his drunk brain could register my movement, I stepped inward, completely closing the distance between us. I grabbed his thumb with my free hand, stripping his grip from my wrist using simple leverage, and pivoted my hips ninety degrees. With a lightning-fast rotational turn, I locked his arm straight across my shoulder, trapping his elbow joint in a standing armbar.
A sickening pop echoed across the silent deck.
Derek let out a pathetic, high-pitched shriek as thirty pounds of pressure bent his elbow joint backward. His knees buckled instantly, his massive body slamming hard onto the wooden deck floor, ice and melted water splashing everywhere around him.
I didn't lose my balance for a single second. I shifted my weight, planting my foot firmly against his ribs, keeping his arm torqued at a terrifying angle. One more inch of pressure, and his entire elbow joint would explode into shattered bone and torn ligaments.
“Get... get off me!” Derek gasped, his face buried against the wet deck boards, tears of shock springing to his eyes.
“Derek!” Diane screamed from her patio chair, dropping her glass of iced tea, which shattered on the stone pavers. “Claire! Are you insane?! Stop it! You’re killing my boy!”
“He punched my husband,” I said, my voice as calm as a calm morning sea. “And then he touched me.”
Ryan stepped forward, holding a napkin to his bleeding mouth. His eyes were calm, devoid of any desire to save his brother. “I told you to apologize, Derek. You didn't listen.”
Derek groaned, pounding his free fist uselessly against the deck floor. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Just let go of my arm! Please!”
I held the joint lock for three long, terrifying seconds, letting the absolute terror sink deep into his arrogant soul. Then, with a smooth, practiced motion, I released his arm, stepped back, and adjusted the hem of my summer dress.
Derek scrambled backward like a terrified crab, clutching his hyper-extended elbow to his chest, hyperventilating as he stared up at me in utter horror.
Marissa slowly walked out onto the deck, holding her phone out with shaking hands. “Derek... she fought in the UFC for five years. She retired undefeated after breaking a woman's jaw in two places. She has thirty-two professional knockouts.”
The entire family stared at me as if a mythical dragon had suddenly materialized in the middle of their suburban barbecue.
Diane rushed to Derek’s side, weeping dramatically as she inspected his arm. “You’re a monster! A violent, unhinged lunatic! Ryan, how could you marry a psycho like this?! She belongs in prison!”
“She defended herself and her husband,” Ryan replied, stepping right beside me, placing a firm, loving hand on the small of my back. “And if Derek ever steps foot on our property or touches either of us again, she won't be the one calling the police. I will.”
I picked up my leather purse from the patio table, pulled out a wet wipe, and slowly cleaned the sticky beer residue from my hands.
May you like
“Thank you for the barbecue, Diane,” I said politely, looking down at Derek, who flinched violently when I made eye contact. “We’ll be taking our leave now.”
As we walked toward our car, the silence behind us was heavy, broken only by Derek’s pathetic whimpers and the sizzle of burning ribs left unattended on the grill.
