Chapter 181 | One Punch Woman
Chapter 181: 181 | One Punch Woman
Jordan watched the woman finish her cool-down, her breathing barely elevated despite the workout that would have hospitalized most people. She grabbed a towel from a nearby hook and wiped down her face with quick, economical movements. No preening. No checking her reflection. Just function.
This was Maya Santos. Had to be. Kyle had mentioned her during their conversation about the gym. Daughter of the owner. Local fighting legend. The kind of person who made other fighters nervous just by existing in the same building.
And Leo had just called dibs on her like she was the last slice of pizza.
"You guys looking for something?"
The voice came from behind them. Jordan turned to find a stocky man in his fifties approaching from the direction of the back office. He had the look of someone who had spent decades getting hit in the face and had made peace with it. Scarred knuckles. Cauliflower ears. A nose that had been broken so many times it had given up trying to maintain any particular shape.
"We’re here for the trial class," Kyle said. "Four thirty beginners session?"
The man nodded and extended his hand. "Reyes. I run this place. You boys got any experience?"
"Some wrestling in high school." Kyle shook the offered hand. "A little MMA training. Nothing serious."
"What about you?" Reyes turned to Jordan.
"Nothing formal. Just started working out a few weeks ago."
"And you?" Reyes looked at Leo with the expression of a man who had already made several assessments and found them all disappointing.
Leo tore his eyes away from Maya’s retreating form. "I have a black belt in spending money."
"That’s not a thing."
"I’m very dedicated to it."
Reyes stared at Leo for a long moment, then turned back to Jordan and Kyle with the kind of resignation that suggested he had dealt with Leo’s type before.
"Trial class is about to start. Grab some wraps from the bin over there. Maya will be teaching the basics today."
Jordan’s stomach did something complicated. The woman who had been demolishing the heavy bag was going to be their instructor. The woman Leo had called dibs on. The woman who could probably snap all three of them in half without breaking a sweat.
This was going to be interesting.
They found the wrap bin near the entrance to the mat area. Kyle grabbed three pairs and handed them out with practiced ease.
"You know how to wrap?" he asked Jordan.
"Watched some YouTube tutorials."
"That’s not a yes."
"It’s not a no either."
Kyle sighed and grabbed Jordan’s hands. "Watch. You start between the fingers. Loop around the wrist twice for stability. Then across the palm. Through the fingers. Around the knuckles. Back to the wrist."
Jordan watched Kyle’s hands move with the competence of someone who had done this hundreds of times. The wraps tightened around his knuckles and wrist, providing support he hadn’t realized he needed.
"Now you do Leo."
Leo held up his hands with the expression of someone being asked to perform surgery. "I don’t think I need wraps. I’m probably just going to watch."
"You’re not watching." Jordan grabbed Leo’s wrist and started wrapping. "You’re participating. That was the deal."
"I don’t remember agreeing to any deal."
"The deal was implied by your presence in my car."
"That seems like a legal gray area."
Jordan finished Leo’s wraps with only minor difficulties and stepped back to assess his work. Not bad. Not great. Functional.
The three of them moved toward the mat area where a small group had already assembled. Six other people in various stages of fitness and preparedness. A woman in her thirties who looked like she did CrossFit religiously. Two guys in their twenties who had the look of former athletes going soft. A teenager who couldn’t have been older than sixteen. An older man with silver hair and the posture of someone who had spent forty years behind a desk.
And at the front of the group, watching them approach with dark eyes that missed nothing, stood Maya Santos.
Up close, she was even more intimidating. Her sports bra revealed the full architecture of her upper body. Shoulders that could have been carved from marble. Arms that spoke of thousands of hours of work. A stomach so defined Jordan could have counted her abs from across the room.
Her face was beautiful in a severe way. No softness. No warmth. Just angles and intensity and the kind of focus that made Jordan feel like she was already calculating how quickly she could take him apart.
"New blood." Her voice was low and flat. Not hostile. Not friendly. Just present. "You the trial members?"
"Yes ma’am." Kyle nodded with the respect of someone who recognized superior skill. "Kyle. Jordan. Leo."
Maya’s eyes passed over Kyle with brief acknowledgment, lingered on Jordan for a moment longer, then landed on Leo with an expression that might have been amusement if it had involved any actual change in her facial muscles.
"Ma’am." She repeated the word like she was tasting something unfamiliar. "Haven’t been called that in a while. Just Maya is fine."
"Maya." Leo stepped forward with the confidence of someone who had absolutely no right to be confident. "Beautiful name. Is it Greek? Japanese? A combination that reflects your multicultural heritage and—"
"Filipino and Mexican." Maya cut him off without raising her voice. "And we’re starting."
She turned away from Leo mid-sentence and addressed the group.
"This is a beginner class. We’re going to cover stance, basic movement, and a few fundamental strikes. If you’ve never thrown a punch before, you’re in the right place. If you think you already know everything, you’re about to find out you don’t."
Her eyes swept the assembled students.
"Pair up. Find someone roughly your size. We’ll start with stance work."
Jordan ended up paired with Kyle, which made sense given their similar heights. Leo got stuck with the CrossFit woman, who looked at him like she had drawn the short straw in some cosmic lottery.
"Feet shoulder-width apart." Maya walked through the group, correcting postures with quick touches and brief instructions. "Lead foot forward. Back foot angled out. Weight distributed evenly. You want to be able to move in any direction at any time."
She reached Jordan and Kyle’s position and stopped.
"You." She pointed at Jordan. "Your stance is too narrow. Widen."
Jordan adjusted.
"Better. Now your hands are too low. Protect your chin."
Jordan raised his hands.
"There." Something that might have been approval flickered across Maya’s face before vanishing. "You move well. New to fighting but not to your body."
"Started working out recently." Jordan tried not to preen under the minor praise. "Still figuring things out."
"Keep at it." Maya moved on to the next pair. "This one might not be completely hopeless."
Kyle raised an eyebrow at Jordan once Maya’s back was turned.
"She likes you."
"That was not liking me. That was tolerating my existence slightly more than she tolerates most people."
"For Maya, that’s basically a declaration of undying love."
They spent the next thirty minutes on basic footwork. Forward. Backward. Lateral movement. Pivots. Maya moved through the group like a ghost, correcting and adjusting and occasionally demonstrating with the kind of speed that made Jordan’s head spin.
When she showed them a proper pivot, her body rotated so fast Jordan almost missed it. When she demonstrated a basic jab, her arm snapped out with enough force to create a audible crack in the air.
"Okay. Now we throw." Maya returned to the front of the group. "Basic jab. Your lead hand extends straight from your chin. You rotate your shoulder, your hip, your foot. Power comes from the ground. Not your arm. The arm is just the delivery system."
She demonstrated in slow motion, each component of the punch visible and distinct.
"Now fast."
Her jab snapped out and back so quickly Jordan barely saw it move.
"Nngh."
The sound came from Leo’s direction. Jordan glanced over to find his friend staring at Maya with an expression that bordered on religious ecstasy.
"She’s so cool," Leo breathed. "I think I’m in love."