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“I have something for you.” I open her door to reveal the box on her seat.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she says, but her face glows. I allow myself to enjoy her happiness before crushing it with reality.

“You aren’t going to like it.”

When I get in, she’s got the closed box on her lap. She’s biting her lip with excitement, waiting for me.

“Open it,” I instruct.

She does. When she sees what’s inside, her jaw falls open. Her face goes pale, and her throat works without sound. Then she shuts the box. Tries to hand it back to me, but I don’t accept.

“You need it,” I say.

“I don’t know how to use it.”

“I’ll teach you. We can go to the range right now.”

She goes even paler. Then she returns the box to her lap, treating it like there’s a live cobra inside. It’s a good start.

“You’re already doing great,” I tell her. “Treat every gun like it’s loaded.”

“Is it?” Her voice squeaks.

“No. I’ll show you how to load it at the range. I’ve got ear and eye protection for you too.”

For a long moment, she just stares at the closed box on her lap. Mere minutes ago, she was grinning from ear to ear, in her element in the colorful tailor shop. Now I’ve handed her the cold metal invitation to my world. I won’t force her to accept it, but watching how much she struggles with her decision is its own sort of torture.

I’m well aware that by handing her a gun, I’m asking her to forsake her innocence. It’s a big ask. The fact that she’s weighing it so greatly should be a comfort. She understands the importance of this moment. But still, my heart twists with every extra second she takes.

“Okay,” she says at last.

Relief washes over me, followed quickly by hardened grit. This is only the first step on our new path together. I take a deep breath and drive us to the shooting range.

Isaac, the range’s manager, confirms that he emptied the place per my instructions. At my side, Brioni stiffens when she hears this. But she thanks Isaac all the same, polite as ever. He buzzes us in, unlocking my private booth at the far end.

When it’s just me and Brioni in the small, soundproofed space, I walk her through how to load her new gun. She watches me closely, her face grave. With her voice wobbling, she asks me to show her two more times before trying to load the gun herself.

Her hands shake when I give her the unloaded gun. It’s so unsafe that I have to take it back from her. I lay it on the hip-height shelf, then turn Brioni to face me.

“Hey.” I rest my hands on her trembling shoulders. “It’s okay. This is something that takes a lot of practice.”

“Practice won’t help if I’m too afraid to use it.” She won’t meet my eye. It’s like she’s ashamed of herself, and I hate the fact that I caused her to feel this way. But it’s necessary.

“That’s why we’re here. To get used to it.”

“I’m not cut out for this, Liam.”

“You are.” I wait for her to look at me, then press a finger to my cheek, pointing to my eye. I swear it.

She gives me the barest nod. Her hands are steadier as I give her back her gun. I’ve seen her stitch a loose hem in seconds, her dexterous fingers flying. But she’s clumsy with the magazine as she loads each cartridge.

I try not to be disheartened. She’s too good for my violent world. She checks the safety on the loaded gun, ready to set it back on the shelf.

Then she scrunches her mouth. I recognize her expression of having committed to something, and my chest warms with pride. Instead of giving up on the gun, she releases the magazine. The spring is stiff, but she’s determined as she unloads it. When all the cartridges are lined up on the shelf, she even checks the chamber to confirm it’s empty.

I realize I’m smiling. But Brioni doesn’t see me, too focused on reloading the magazine. She spends nearly an hour practicing loading and unloading her new Beretta. My fingers itch to fire my own gun. To annihilate the target downrange that’s been taunting me since we got here.

I do nothing except guide Brioni through her magazine-focused steps. Her effort shows. Eventually, she’s loading and unloading her gun like an expert. Even if she isn’t meant for this world, she’s trying.