“Or are you going to run inside and hide with your daughter?”

His three gym buddies moved in closer, their shadows falling over the crushed lilac stem.

I didn’t pull away, and I didn’t change my stance.

I lifted my left hand smoothly and set the tip of my thumb against the small tendon on the inside of Trent’s right wrist, just below the wrist bone.

I pressed down with four pounds of focused pressure right along the line of his median nerve.

Trent’s right hand let go at once.