And then I jump over the car Felix is hiding behind. Father may have taught him many things, but he’s not as skilled as I am at hiding or moving silently. Felix's heavy breathing told me exactly where he was at all times.
I get one good slice in before he attacks back. I knock the gun from his hand as I punch him in the face.
Fighting isn’t supposed to be personal. You aren’t supposed to let any emotions in. That’s what father used to say. The winner only wins because he can separate his emotions from the fight.
I disagree.
Each punch is personal.
It’s retaliation for threatening Kai’s life.
For threatening to take our love away.
For threatening my son’s life.
And the more I let my emotions in, the harder I fight.
I’m winning.
I know it.
Felix knows it.
And there are none of his men here to save him. Not this time. This time I win.
But the thing about fighting in real life, unlike the boxing ring, it doesn’t matter if you’ve been winning the entire time. You don’t get points for throwing better punches. You don’t win because you are the better fighter. In real life, one punch is all it takes. One slice of the blade. One shot of the gun.
But none of those is Felix’s style
. No, he prefers to attack with his brain rather than his fists. And he knows exactly where to get me—my heart.
“We have Kai,” he says, as he listens to a voice in his ear.
I have him in a headlock. I’ve won. Just a little more pressure around his neck and he’ll pass out.
“We have Kai,” he repeats.
“Liar.”
He chuckles. “Take the earpiece out and listen for yourself.”
I do.
I listen.
And the voice says he has Kai.
“Prove it,” I say.
And then I hear the most beautiful, tortured sound—Kai’s breath.
It’s heavy and pained.
She’s alive, but barely.
But I know it’s her breath.
Felix has her.