“They shatter on impact,” McCrae offers, and I look over my shoulder to notice he’s stepped closer, his arms crossed over his chest, his protective stance activated. I instantly file away the insecure notion forming in my brain before it can take root. Santos remains leaned against the truck bed, a relaxed look on his face that’s completely opposite to the sharp look in his eyes.
He’s clearly hiding something, or at the very least at war with himself, but over what?He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would be against guns.
“It’s kind of scary, having the power to kill something,” I admit, even though doing so makes me feel weak somehow.
“It should be. Taking a life should be terrifying, a last resort.” There’s a tone to her voice that has me turning to look at her. It’s almost accusatory, and I bristle.
“I don’t take it lightly.”
“It should be done to protect yourself or those you care about from deadly harm only,” she reiterates, and my skin burns.
“Alright, that’s—” McCrae starts.
“You don’t know anything.”
But she doesn’t acknowledge either of us. “And killing people can result in others getting hurt, especially if it’s senseless.”
My interest in being her friend dissipates as quickly as it formed, leaving a bitter taste blossoming in my mouth. I don’t have friends, and this is exactly why. I don’t need anyone’s opinion—especially when they don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.
“Fuck. You,” I growl, extending the gun to her, ready to walk back to the house if I have to.I never want to see this bitch again.
“What are you afraid of here?” she challenges, and I again try to shove the gun in her direction.
“I’m not talking about this with you. You don’t know shit.”
“Why don’t you tell me then?”
And as she asks the question, I’ve half a mind to tell her everything, but I can’t. She wouldn’t believe me—no one ever does. I’d rather be feared as the villain than looked down upon as the victim I actually am. It’s better she fears me than pity me.
“You want to teach me to shoot, fine, but you’re not my fucking therapist, and you’re not my fucking friend,” I growl, stepping toward her, careful to keep the barrel pointed down at the ground. I want to intimidate her, but I sure as fuck don’t want to threaten her. I know well enough that she’d have me dead in the dirt before I could even lift the pistol in her direction.
“No, I don’t suppose I am, but you need me to be. You need friends, Valentina. They’re one of the few things that make us human.”
“They make us weak.”
She eyes me thoughtfully, her eyebrows pushed together, as if what I said is a puzzle. And then, she sighs, motioning with her chin down range once more, seemingly ready to forget the spark of anger blistering between us.
I hate that it only makes me admire her more. She’s passionate but not irrational.
I exhale, forcing the gathering anger to reduce to a simmer. I don’t want tohate everyone; it’s exhausting. I want to be more like her.
“Friends don’t make us weak. They make us stronger. They take out those who might be ready to shoot us instead, protecting our back,” she states.
I turn to the targets again, putting my finger on the trigger. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know.”
TEN
VALENTINA
February 21st, 2021
“I know what you’ve done,”Seth whispers as I walk past him out of my office. I don’t slow my steps—it doesn’t matter what he thinks he‘knows’. No one knows me, and therefore, they have no power over me.
“Ryan, where’s Mateo?”
The floor manager doesn’t even lift his gaze from his magazine. “It’s my lunch, Ms. Reyes. I think Luke can help you find him, though.”
I freeze, staring at the squat man who couldn’t chase down an infant, much less a full grown thief.What’s a girl have to do to get some respect around here?
