Even the first lesson can be lethal

Bloodlust.

It was her one true source of fuel. She would have no trouble scrounging up every last drop of it towards her counterattack. And she would not hesitate to attack, given Burke's consent. She had noticed his main form of strike, using his size to crush his victims. What she had to do was work around that. She was quick, her advantage. But she remembered what Burke had said. Speedy was nothing without force to back it up. She needed to use her anger and her sorrow and her bloodlust to fuel her attack. 
Snarling, she sized herself up, regaining her sense of pride and anger. He is your opponent, not your Alpha. And what do you do to those who cross you? She reminded herself as she took her chance to strike. 
She would aim for Burke's neck, the soft spot, that she knew he would protect. He would react, giving her window to his stomach, where she could plant herself in a position that was vulnerable to him. She put everything into the blow. The years of pain and diminishment and misery from the ones who were supposed to care for her. But also her anger and hatred and rage to those who had dared to hurt and torment her, to the ones who would in short time, have the hand of death fall upon them for their crimes against her . It was a risky shot but she went for it.