They approach with caution, hands held behind their backs. I move so I’m directly under the pull-up bar and wait. The men exchange a quick look. And then, they charge me. Each wielding a knife.
I jump, grab ahold of the bar, and kick the nearest asshole’s chest with both of my feet, sending him flying backward. Leaping down, I land right next to the other attacker, just as he swipes his weapon at me. Not a tiny, easily concealed switchblade, but a big-ass thirteen-inch retractable stiletto. I punch him in the face while he plunges his knife into my left shoulder. The fucker stumbles back, spraying the packed dirt with blood as he shakes his head.
My shoulder feels like it’s on fire when I wrench the blade from my flesh. Gripping the hilt, I bury the steel in the shithead’s belly, aiming
