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I greet the class and Tyson, a retired police academy instructor, and I go a few rounds. Building on moves we covered in the last class. Jenna doesn’t squirm as much watching me get my ass kicked by Tyson, who isn’t really kicking my ass. He looks convincing, it has to look real. Fighting back is life and death to these ladies.

After a few others take their turns with Ty, I offer Jenna a go at the guy. But she says she’s only comfortable with me. My heart leaps, hearing that.

I think about the RAVENs and all the people we helped, especially the women who’d been raped in Syria. I can do this. I can have my own life and gain satisfaction without Griffin.

Jenna approaches me, looking at her feet.

“Eyes on me, Jenna.”

She nods and looks at me while planting her feet, but her hands shake as she squares up in front of me.

“You’re doing great, hun,” I say gently, showing her how to hold her hands, firm but non-threatening. “The important part is to not just be confident, butlookconfident. Youhavepower. You just have to find it.”

Her lower lip quivers for a few seconds, but when she meets my gaze, I see a fighter.

“Let’s try that last maneuver again.” I move behind her and wrap one arm around her chest, holding her in a mock chokehold. “Now remember, elbows back, and twist out to the side. You’re not trying to beat him up. You’re trying to get away.”

The primary response we teach is to run. The treadmills and other weights in the gym are to build muscle.

Jenna hesitates, but I see that glint of determination in her eyes. I see the recollection come back to her from my earlier instructions. She blows out a breath with pursed lips as she moves in. With her elbow jutted back, her body twists, and a sting hits my ribs.

“Ouch!” I snap.

She’s suddenly free of my hold.

I grin so wide, my face hurts. Filled with pride, I chirp, “See? You did it!”

“I... I didn’t think I could do it,” she murmurs, glancing around at the other women for validation.

They cheer her on softly. There’s a lot of hurt under these women’s skin. This isn’t a spa. They don’twantto be here. Jenna’s expression shifts to something like hope mixed with disbelief.

“Did I hurt you?” she asks, her eyes on my hand rubbing my side.

“Yeah, and I’m happy you did. I’m here to get the bruises you don’t have to bear anymore.” I meet her gaze firmly. “You have every right to defend yourself. No one has the right to hurt you. Ever.”

“I know,” she whispers, wiping tears away from one cheek. It’s slowly regaining its normal hue from the massive bruise she came in with last week.

The rest of the session passes quickly with Jenna practicing, her confidence growing with each attempt. When our two-hour lesson is up, I hate leaving. If I had my way, this is all I would do.

“Thank you,” Jenna knocks me from my thoughts.

“You’re so welcome.” I don’t hug her because she’s got touch issues.

“How long have you been married?” she looks down at the gold band on my left ring finger.

The rock around my neck could knock someone out.

“Not long.” I twist the plain gold wedding band that just showed up on our wedding day, my heart hurting.

“He’s a good guy?” Jenna asks, sounding hopeful and not jealous.

“He is,” I say to convince her. Or maybe me.

I’m still fucked up over what happened this afternoon.

I think about Rand Miller again. “But I was attacked once. By someone I knew.”

Next, Jenna is petting my arm.She’s touching me!I try not to react.