“If My Daughter’s A General, Then I’m A Ballerina,” He Said—Until The Doors Opened

training compressed into three seconds. His weapon never cleared the holster. My elbow connected with his jaw, precisely placed, and he dropped like a puppet with cut strings. The second man lunged. I redirected his momentum into the wall—non-lethal, just enough force to take the fight out of him.

The third pulled a weapon.

I swept his legs, disarmed continue reading …