Rolling her eyes, she stormed off to check on Alfie.
After gathering more ammunition and supplies, Imara, Hawk, and Colton began their trek across the decimated field. Gemma shook her head, sighing heavily as she slid down the stone wall.
This is a terrible idea.
Christian crouched in front of her, opening a circular metal bottle that he must’ve found in one of the black supply bags. “Give me your hands.”
Gemma hesitantly obeyed.
He poured water over her palms and tore a strip of fabric from his trousers’ leg to wipe away Alfie’s blood.
When he reached for her rings, though, Gemma snatched her hands away. If he misplaced her poison one, everything would be over. All the plans she and Reymond had made over the last three years. All the hours of work she’d spent in the mines.
Redemption for her sister.
“It’s all right. I won’t lose them,” Christian said, his hands raised. “Just figured you didn’t want Alfie’s blood caked under them.”
Gemma took a deep breath and tried to still her racing heart.We’re in a simulator. Her real rings were on her real hands. She could allow him to take care of her the way she’d taken care of so many over the course of her life.
Her head sagging against the wall, she let Christian remove both her fibroglass and poison rings and work meticulously to clean as much of the drying, sticky blood off her hands. He was so gentle, taking his time to make sure noresidue was left behind.
“Family heirloom?” He’d finished with Gemma’s hands and proceeded to clean her rings.
She shifted her position, her scalp prickling. “Something like that.”
Gemma watched closely as he switched out one ring for the other, and she almost sat on her hands to keep from pouncing at the jewelry, despite knowing they weren’t real.
He set the fabric down, picked up Gemma’s hands, and slipped both rings back onto her fingers, pausing to brush the back of her hand with his thumb before letting go.
His light touch helped Gemma relax, and the ill feeling in her stomach dissipated.
She glanced at Alfie, who was still unconscious but breathing despite his blood loss. If Hawk, Imara, and Colton found that flag soon, they might pass this test after all.
Christian rinsed off his own hands before finding a spot against the wall next to Gemma. He lay his rifle across his lap and leaned his head back against the stone.
The atmosphere around them was so quiet now; not even a whisper of wind passed through the rubble. She was so used to noise that the silence was deafening.
“How’d you learn to shoot like that?” Gemma asked, needing to break the stillness.
“I was on the hunting team.”
Impressive. They were the people responsible for the scarce bits of real meat flowing through Perileos’ streets.
Gemma tipped her head. “But I thought the hunters mostly used traps. Aren’t guns illegal in Perileos?”
“Yes.”
“Then how are you so good at shooting?”
The muscles in Christian’s jaw flexed. “It’s a long story.”
Gemma pursed her lips. She shouldn’t care about her teammates’ skills and histories. It was none of her business, just like her past was none of theirs.
Christian looked at her, anticipating her next question, and the setting sun illuminated the gold flecks in his hazel-green eyes so vibrantly that Gemma’s stomach danced.
She cleared her throat. “I should check on Alfie.”
Her teammate was only a few steps away, but Gemma needed the distance from Christian if she was going to keep herself from swooning. Distractions, no matter how handsome, were not part of the plan.
