“Get up, Sloane!” I yell, looking her dead in the eye. Dasha falls back on her ass, blinks rapidly, her head wobbling as if she’s been at the pub for the evening. Sloane rolls to her side and plants her palms on the mat. “Now,” I order her. Anger fills her eyes, and she lunges forward toward Dasha. Dasha’s fist curls, but her swing doesn’t make contact as Sloane buries her shoulder in Dasha’s stomach. At that angle, she had to have knocked the breath out of her. Good. She only has another moment. Maybe two. Sloane scrambles behind Dasha and then yanks her up and into the weakest chokehold I’ve
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