She’d practiced on Lukas, who had proven a terrible combat partner, and then on Barclay, who had been the one to train Willa to begin with. He’d worked with Margot until she had the move down, applauding her when she’d sent him tumbling over and again to the floor, not minding the bruises.

It came back to her now. She pushed Dot out of the way and met Williams’s advance, grabbing his knife-wielding arm rather than trying to avoid it. Pulling on it, pulling on him, wrenching the arm around as she stepped past him.

He grunted in pain, and the knife clattered to the ground. Margot was vaguely aware of Dot scrambling for it but more intent upon turning to face him again as he spun on her.

There was no moonlight to show her his face, just the weak gas lamps that didn’t quite reach them. She couldn’t make out his expression, but he hesitated a second before making a rush at her.

She stepped forward again, met him, and brought a knee up into his groin that sent him to the ground.

“Run!” Dot, with that wicked knife in her hands and Margot’s bag over her shoulder, grabbed her by the arm and jerked her away.

Probably the best advice at this point, while Williams was immobilized. And he was coughing, wheezing with every groan. That would buy them another minute or two that might offset how much slower Dot’s pumps would make them.

They ran.

Familiar streets sped by, but they didn’t slow until they reached Dot’s building, other than to look back and make sure he wasn’t giving chase. They were both gasping for breath as they pushed through the doors and stumbled up the steps, neither of them accustomed to such a pace.

Dot’s hands shook as she fumbled her keys out of her own bag. Not trembling, but actual, violent shaking. She dropped the keys. She choked on a sob as she tried to pick them up and couldn’t seem to get hold of them.

Margot moved forward, ready to help, but the door opened even as she did, and a frowning Drake filled it. “Dot? What’s the matter?”

Margot pulled her friend up rather than the keys and propelled her into her brother’s arms. Then she fished the slips of metal off the ground and followed the siblings inside.

“Mugger,” Dot managed between sobs.

“What? Are you all right?” He moved his wide eyes from Dot to Margot.

Margot sucked in a much-needed breath, not ashamed to admit there was a bit of a tremor in her own hands, now that the danger had passed. “We’re all right. We got his knife from him. He didn’t take anything, and he didn’t hurt us.”