"Again."
An hour later,arms trembling, palms slick, the smell of burnt powder hanging in the still air—I haven't hit the can once.
"Stop."
I lower the gun. Frustration burns behind my eyes. "I can't do this. I'm a coder. I build interfaces. I don't destroy things."
"You think this is about destruction?" He steps in front of me, invading my space. Storm-gray eyes, furious. "This isn't about breaking things. It's about keeping you from being broken."
"I'm trying."
"Try harder." He points to the tree line. "Ivan Kova isn't a tin can. He's a predator. He's going to come out of those woods with a suppressed pistol and a knife, and he isn't going to care that you're a coder. He isn't going to care that you're brilliant or funny or that you make a cute noise when you sleep. He is going to put two rounds in your chest and one in your head, and he won't even blink."
The image hits like a physical blow. Not abstract. Not hypothetical. A specific man with a specific kill method is already moving toward this mountain.
"I'm trying to save your life." Kade's voice drops, rough with something that hasn't been there all morning. "But I can't be everywhere. If I go down—if Kova gets past me—you are your last line of defense. You have to be able to end it."
He takes the gun from my hand, racks the slide to clear the chamber, and hands it back.
"Look at me."
I look up at him.
"You have steel in you." Quiet now. "I saw it at the bar. I saw it in the alley. I saw it when you got on the back of my bike. Stop being afraid of the tool and use the steel."
He steps back. "Again."
I close my eyes for a second. Not to calm down. To picture the intruder in my hallway—the dead eyes, the zip ties, the absolute certainty in his movements that I was already gone.
I open my eyes. High tang. Thumbs forward. Lean in.
Not the can. The front sight.
I embrace the violence of it.
Squeeze.
CRACK.
The tin can jumps, spinning off the stump with a metallic ping.
"There."
Adrenaline floods my system—something that feels dangerously like power. "I hit it. I actually hit it."
"Do it again."
I bring the gun up.
CRACK.
The can dances across the grass.
CRACK.
A grin breaks across my face. "I got it."
He doesn't smile back. A single nod, gaze intense. "Good. Now reload. You're empty."
