We fought like animals on that floor.
She bucked her hips, throwing me off balance, then twisted and suddenly she was on top, her hands going for my throat.
I grabbed her wrists, trying to push her off, but she was stronger than me.
"You really thought you could take me?" she hissed in my face. "You stupid little girl."
I brought my knee up hard, caught her in the ribs. She grunted, her grip loosening enough for me to shove her off.
We both scrambled to our feet, breathing hard, circling each other.
Blood was dripping from her nose where I'd hit her. My lip was split. We were both covered in scratches, bruises forming.
And suddenly, through the adrenaline and rage, a thought cut through with crystal clarity:
What was I doing?
This was me executing a plan to kill someone.
Even if that someone was a traitor. A murderer. Someone who deserved it.
I was becoming exactly what I hated.
