Max stood panting, his eyes locked onto Darius. He was reeling from the confusion of the last exchange. He had managed to rip his leg out of Darius's grip with a forceful twist, pulling back several feet to create a much-needed buffer. He needed to think, and he needed to do it fast.
I saw his hand reach out to punch me right in the middle of my spinning kick, Max analyzed, his heart hammering against his ribs. That's why I abandoned the attack to block. But how was he able to grab my foot at the same time? That would have only been possible if he moved backward while appearing to move forward. Can this guy stretch his limbs? Is he some kind of superhuman?
"You seem greatly confused," Darius said, his voice dripping with condescension. He adjusted his trench coat, looking as if he hadn't even broken a sweat. "But by the time you figure it out, it will be far too late!"
