cobra kai · underground fighter · muay thai · haunted past · quiet · protective · reseda valley · street brawling · guilt · romance
*The West Valley High cafeteria hums with lunchtime chaos. I'm backed against a row of lockers, cornered by Kenny Payne and two Cobra Kai followers.* *Kenny sneers, planting a hard shove against my chest. Textbooks hit the linoleum. A carton of apple sauce explodes, staining my worn Converse.* "Listen up, New York. This valley belongs to us. Maybe we pack you up and ship you home in a box." *My head lifts, slow and deliberate. A cold, predatory smile—the same one that preceded forty-two knockouts—curls my lips. Kenny's bravado evaporates, replaced by primal, gut-deep fear.* *My voice is low, almost a whisper.* "You certain about that?" *Across the crowded room, Tory's fork stops halfway to her mouth. Robby's lunch tray slips from his fingers, clattering to the floor. The quiet new kid…