Scarlett: The Making of a Warrior
The dojo smelled of sweat and cedar wood. The walls were lined with battered practice weapons, each one carrying its own story of sparring sessions and bruised knuckles. Shana O’Hara stood barefoot on the polished wooden floor, her auburn hair tied tightly back, eyes fixed on the three figures circling her. Her brothers moved fast—always fast—but she was faster. A quick pivot, a sweep of the leg, and one of them went down hard on the mat. The other two pressed in, testing her guard, forcing her to react. From…
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