Don stayed still as Red Star rose. His eyes scanned her frame, searching for the micro-flickers of muscle that would signal an attack. Nothing came.
Instead, she lifted one hand to her hip, posture loose, then snapped her head to the side. Her dark hair, undone from its once strict tie, whipped outward with such force it cracked against the air.
Snap~
The sound echoed like a wire pulled taut and broken. A faint wave rippled outward, brushing Don's skin as though her hair was less fiber and more alloy.
Her gaze cut to him, measuring. "Not bad, malchik. You have good potential."
Her mouth pulled slightly, not a smile but an annoyance as she spat to the side. "Tsk. Is shame you want to waste it in America."
Don said nothing. He rolled one shoulder, then stretched his arms across his chest, loosening muscles gone tight from the exchange. Part of him hoped that was the end of it.
It wasn't.
