The beer hit my hair like cold rain, but the laughter around the barbecue was hotter than fire.

Derek jumped, startled by my sudden appearance in the dark hallway. But seeing me standing there alone in a simple sweater and jeans, his desperation quickly overruled his fear.

“You ruined my life, you bitch!” Derek screamed, pointing his trembling finger at me. “You took my money, you took my job, you turned Ryan against us! Tonight, you’re going to give it all back!”

He turned to the thick, tattooed man beside him. “Big Mike! Grab her! Break her hands first so she can't do that joint-lock shit!”

Big Mike let out a low, guttural grunt, tossing the iron crowbar onto the rug. He stepped forward, his heavy brass knuckles gleaming in the dim light, throwing a massive, lunging right hook aimed directly at my jaw.

To an untrained person, Big Mike looked terrifying. To a former world champion who had spent ten years dodging lightning-fast punches from professional athletes, Big Mike moved like he was swimming in molasses.

I slipped under his telegraphed right hook with effortless grace, slipping inside his guard before his arm could even extend.

Using his own forward momentum against him, I planted my right palm squarely under his chin in an explosive palm-strike, snapping his head backward with a loud CRACK. Before he could recover his balance, I drove a devastating knee straight into his solar plexus.

Big Mike let out a wheezing gasp, all the air exploding out of his lungs. He crumpled to his knees on the hallway rug, clutching his stomach, vomiting rain and saliva onto the floor.

Derek stared at his hired muscle lying helpless on the floor in less than three seconds flat. His eyes went wide as saucers, his jaw dropping in absolute terror.

“My... my turn?” Derek whimpered, taking a terrified step backward toward the broken front door.

I didn't answer. I stepped forward, grabbed Derek by the front of his wet hoodie, and executed a classic hip throw, sweeping his legs right out from under him.

Derek flew through the air and slammed hard onto his back on the hardwood floor with a deafening THUD. The impact knocked every bit of wind out of him. Before he could even scream, I dropped my right knee firmly onto his chest, pinning his broad body to the floor, my right fist raised high in the air, cocked and ready to drive straight through his nose.

Derek clamped his eyes shut, sobbing frantically, throwing his hands over his face. “DON'T KILL ME! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY!”

Outside, red and blue police lights suddenly flashed wildly through the broken front door, illuminating the rain-slicked porch. Siren wails echoed down the suburban street as three police squad cars screeched to a halt in my driveway.

Uniformed officers burst through the broken door with firearms drawn. “POLICE! NOBODY MOVE!”

I slowly lowered my raised fist, stood up, smoothed down my sweater, and looked at the lead officer with a polite, calm smile.

“Good evening, officers,” I said, pointing down at the two groaning men on my floor. “These two gentlemen forcibly broke into my home and attempted to assault me. I’ve detained them for you.”

The lead officer looked at Big Mike wheezing on his knees, then at Derek sobbing on his back, and finally at me—a calm woman standing comfortably in her socks.