Damon felt it in his chest, felt the push and pull of the moment.
Jon stepped forward again, this time doubling up on the jab. The first was a feint, the second a piston shot that cracked into Damon's forehead.
Damon felt the sweat spray from his hair, his vision flickering white for a blink. He moved back, shaking his head, and Jon followed, throwing a heavy overhand that whooshed past Damon's ear.
Damon's smile was tight, almost a snarl. He let Jon's momentum carry him forward, then met him with a stiff jab to the mouth, the glove snapping Jon's head back just enough.
He saw the opening for a knee but didn't take it, he didn't want to overcommit, not yet.
He moved again, using small pivots to keep Jon turning.
He stayed patient, picking at Jon's defenses, that Ghost Punch slipping in like a whisper, never obvious, always a part of the chaos.
