“Now lift the weapon. Both hands, firm grip, arms extended but not locked.”
I raise the Glock and sight down the barrel at the paper target twenty feet away. My arms are already tired from the repetition and my shoulders ache from the unfamiliar tension.
“Breathe in. Exhale halfway. Squeeze the trigger on the exhale, don’t pull.”
I do what he says and the gun kicks in my hands, the sound sharp even through the ear protection. The bullet goes wide, hitting the outer edge of the target.
“Again.”
I fire again and miss again. Third shot clips the shoulder of the silhouette, which is at least closer to center mass.
“Better. Keep going.”
We’ve been at this since dawn. After Dante showed me the war room and walked me through the assault plan, he insisted I learn the basics of defending myself. Not because he expects me to fight, he made that clear, but because he needs to know I can protect myself if everything goes wrong.
I empty the magazine and set the gun down, my hands shaking slightly from the recoil.
“How am I doing?”
“You won’t win any marksmanship awards.” He reloads the weapon and hands it back to me. “But you can hit a target at close range, which is all that matters.”
I take the gun and line up another shot. This one hits the chest area, and I feel a small leap of satisfaction that immediatelyturns to a sickening realization. I’m learning to shoot people. This is actually happening.
“Dante.”
“Keep firing.”
“I need a minute.”
He doesn’t argue, stepping back and waiting while I lower the weapon and try to breathe through the tightness in my chest. The fluorescent lights in the range are harsh and the smell of gunpowder is making me nauseous.
“I keep thinking about what happens if I freeze,” I finally say. “If we get Luca out and something goes wrong and I can’t pull the trigger when it matters.”
“Then you run. You grab Luca and you run and you let my men handle the rest.”
“And if running isn’t an option?”
He moves to stand in front of me, blocking my view of the target. His grey eyes are steady and certain in a way that makes me want to believe everything he says.
“You’re not going to freeze. When it comes to protecting Luca, you’ll do whatever it takes. I’ve seen the way you are with him. The way you’ve been fighting for him since the moment you found out you were pregnant.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” He takes my face in his hands, tilting it up so I have to meet his eyes. “You’re the strongest person I know, Scarlett. Stronger than me. Stronger than anyone in this house. Andwhen the moment comes, that strength is going to carry you through.”
I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him so badly.
“Okay.” I take a breath and step back, raising the gun again. “Show me what else I need to know.”
The next hour is a maze of instruction. Dante teaches me how to take cover, how to move through a space while staying low. He shows me where body armor won’t protect me and how to position myself to minimize exposed areas.
Marco joins us around midday, carrying a set of tactical gear that looks like they’re from a military movie.
“Custom fitted,” he says, holding up a vest designed for someone my size. “Lightweight composite. It’ll stop most handgun rounds and slow down rifle fire.”
I let him help me into the vest and adjust the straps until it fits. The weight is noticeable but not unbearable, and I can still move freely enough to run.
“How does it feel?”
