Page 55 of Red

What the fuck am I doing?

I wish he was here.

The pain of Pratt’s absence fuels me. I can’t stop now.

Tripp grabs a few other rifles, and then we head out. I follow him, staring at the four rifles slung on his back. Above, the sky is cloudy and the air is warm for a late-winter day. He takes us out to the forest, and we reach a clear patch.

A shot rings out, and I flinch.

“We’ll get you over that in no time.” Tripp smiles at me.

A few men are lined up at what I guess is a shooting line. Some stand, while others crouch, and one is laying down, his gun propped up on two spikes. A hundred yards away is a bunch of plywood targets—a wolf painted on one. I gulp as Tripp leads me to an open spot at the end. There are another dozen or so bystanders near the tables lined with guns, a few wearing over-the-ear headphones and others with bright yellow plugs in their ears. I’ve never been around so many armed humans.

I shift my eyes to focus on Tripp as he places the four guns on a table set up behind us and takes the box of bullets from my hands. There’s a comfortable rhythm to his movements, like a dance.

“Now, I know you’re new to this, so I’m going to help you get comfortable.”

Another two shots ring out. I twitch.

Fuck this.

“I don’t know if I should shoot a gun.”

“Do you work out?” His voice is calm against the shots ringing out along the line.

“Yes.” That seems like something Aly the hiker would do. Explaining that I run through the woods as a werewolf to keep in shape would probably lead to the guns aimed at me. Though it’s been over a month since that’s happened. My face falls.

“Aly, I promise”—the back of his hand brushes my cheek—“you won’t have an issue. Now come here.”

Remembering where I am, I move closer. Tripp picks up a pair of black headphones from the table and places them up over my ears and I do my best to look pleased with the gesture. After putting his headphones on, he lifts the gun off my shoulder with ease. Lowering it on an angle to rest in front of his leg, he pulls the handle back and inserts three small golden bullets.

“I’ll show you one, then you try.”

Relieved to move away, my practiced mask slides into place.

He angles his footing and lifts the gun up against his shoulder. Lowering his face, he squints his eyes at the targets across the large field. A finger on the trigger, he pulls, and a loud noise erupts from the gun. My hands clench into fists. The target ahead of us has a new hole right in the center of the red and white rings.

“Now it’s your turn.” He hands me the loaded gun.

I stare at the black barrel. This was not a part of my plan. I wanted information, not action. How I went from being ordered not to leave a room to being handed a gun all in the same week, I just don’t understand. A traitorous rush of excitement courses through me.

“Place your feet on a diagonal like so, and your one hand on the stock.” He mimics the stance right behind me then wraps his arms around me, gripping the middle of the gun. His chest is firm against my back, even through the layers. “You want to hold your trigger finger right here.” He guides my hands down to the proper position. “The safety is on so you can’t shoot yet. Try to get used to the feeling.” My finger rests on the cold metal. “Next, you want the butt super tight against your shoulder.” He pulls himself in tighter as the end of the gun digs into my shoulder. “If you give it space, it will take your shoulder out when it goes off. There’s a basic bore sight on this one, so you want to close one eye to start and line that little pin at the end of the gun with the slit between the square.” He finally moves away, creating a bit of space between us. “Think you got it?” he asks.

“It’s as good as it’s going to get,” I say, my voice even.

He lifts up the edge of my headphones and whispers into my ear. “Perfect.”

I smile back, and my hands tighten on the gun.

“Back into position.” He clicks the safety off, and a red line appears. He grips his body around me, and I can feel the strength in his arms. It’s not a heated embrace, not like someone I shouldn’t being thinking about. If I wasn’t repulsed, I might enjoy this.

I stare at the target, enhancing my vision the best of my abilities without overheating.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

I give a slight nod. Confidence—I need to be confident. I am a werewolf from legends who can heal bones with internal fire.

I can shoot a gun.