Chapter 4 - The Ring of TruthI stepped through the small door of the cage, my boots clicking softly against the canvas mat.
The cage felt smaller now, claustrophobic, illuminated by the single humming floodlight directly overhead. The smell of sweat and leather was overpowered by the metallic copper scent of blood drifting in from the main gym floor.
Dustin looked at me, his eyes darting frantically toward the locked gym doors forty feet away, then back to my face. The arrogant, cruel boy who had beaten my daughter into an emergency room was gone. In his place sat a terrified twenty-three-year-old coward realizing his actions carried consequences.
"Stay away from me!" Dustin screamed, his voice pitching up into a hysterical squeak. "My uncle is Frank Moretti! Do you know who he is?! He owns the entire east side! If you lay a hand on me, his people will execute you and your whole family!"
I didn't stop walking. I stopped three feet away from him, my arms resting relaxed at my sides.
"Your uncle's name didn't protect you when you put your hands on my daughter, Dustin," I said, my voice calm, cold, and absolute. "And it isn't going to save you now."
Dustin let out a frantic, panicked yell and threw a wild, desperate right cross aimed at my temple.
It was the throw of a drowning man. There was no technique, no balance, no control.
I caught his wrist in mid-air with my right hand. His fist stopped three inches from my face as if it had struck an iron wall.
Dustin gasped, pulling back with all his strength, but my grip was an iron vise. I slowly twisted his wrist clockwise, forcing his forearm to turn until his shoulder joint reached its absolute physical limit.
Dustin dropped to his knees on the canvas, screaming in pain. "AHHH! Stop! Stop! My wrist is breaking!"
"Marcy had three broken ribs," I said softly, looking down at his face. "A severe concussion. Bruises on her neck shaped like your fingers."
I stepped forward, driving a sharp, controlled palm strike directly into his sternum.
CRACK.
Dustin’s breath exploded from his mouth in a choked spray of saliva. He curled forward, clutching his chest, his eyes bloodshot, weeping hysterically on the canvas.
"She told the doctors she fell down the stairs," I continued, taking a handful of his hair and lifting his face up so he was forced to look straight into my eyes. "She lied to protect her mother and me because you told her your uncle would hurt us. You used fear to keep a young girl trapped in a nightmare."
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Dustin sobbed, blood and tears smearing across his face. "I'll never go near her again! I swear to God! Just let me go!"
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"I'm not going to kill you, Dustin," I whispered, my thumb brushing lightly against his cheekbone. "That would be an mercy. I'm going to make sure that every time you look in a mirror, every time you think about raising your hand to a woman, you remember this room."
I drove my knee hard into his solar plexus. Dustin collapsed flat onto the canvas, wheezing helplessly, unable to move a single muscle.
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