In response to Miguel's snarling words, Don scoffed, his lips curling into a cold, unyielding line. "Seeing my face is the least of your worries."
Without another word, Don snapped his head forward with brutal momentum, slamming his forehead directly into Miguel's nose in a vicious headbutt.
~CRACK~
The impact reverberated through both men like a hammer strike on steel.
Pain exploded behind Don's eyes, a sharp white-hot flare that made his vision blur for a split second, but he powered through it, teeth gritted.
Miguel staggered back a step, his enhanced grip loosening ever so slightly around Don's wrists as blood trickled from his nostrils.
Miguel's thick neck absorbed much of the force, but his head remained a vulnerability, the cartilage giving way with a sickening crunch.
Don seized the fleeting opening, chopping down hard with the edge of one hand against Miguel's wrist in a precise, bone-jarring strike.
