Page 57 of Red

Raising the white metal, a thick black pad sinks into my shoulder, and Tripp stands behind me again like he did for the first two shots.

“I’ll be here to catch you if it kicks hard.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” I beam, and this time, it’s his cheeks that color.

I shut out the voices behind us. Tripp grabs the set around his neck and puts them on over his white hood. I tilt up the barrel of the solid metal gun and look through the scope. It gives me vision similar to when I’m a werewolf. I empty my lungs and adjust to see the small targets pinned to the trees. This is how they see us? But how would this work at night? I close my finger in on the trigger, flames peaking at my fingers, desperate to kill the enemy.

Sometimes you must become it.

I fire.

The gun kicks back hard against my shoulder, but not enough for my feet to move. Magic fills me, and I know the snow around us is going to start to melt.

A few men behind us cheer.

I pull down the headphones. That would have killed my eardrums.

“I’ll take my money,” Mike announces to the group.

“You didn’t waver an inch. Come on, Aly, you deserve a drink.”

Tripp’s excitement eases my nerves. I shot multiple guns, and I didn’t run away. A true smile fills my cheeks and eyes.

He hands me the third to last gun we shot with a handful of blue-topped shells to keep on me. The rest he swings onto his shoulders, and we return them to the creepy man.

We enter a new building, and at the far end to the right is a bar. Various-colored bottles line the shelves behind a bartender and two TVs hang on the wall in either corner. A few men sit on wooden stools with a pitcher and frosty glass mugs in front of them. Tripp takes my hand when we step in, and I shudder. He squeezes, and I give a small squeeze back. I miss the things I shouldn’t miss right now, like the mystery tingles of someone who will never be mine. I look up at him, watching me, and come up with the best reassuring smile I can form, then move with a hop to be beside him.

“Now, what do you like to drink?” he asks, leaning against the bar’s worn edge.

I bump my hip into the side of him, squeezing between two stools. “Tequila.”

“A tequila with . . . ?”

“Pineapple juice, if they have it.”

“Pineapple juice for the girl, and I’ll take a rye and Coke.”

“Coming up.” The girl behind the bar places the two glasses on the counter. She’s got funky hair streaked with green and yellow, along with an ear full of piercings.

A minute later, our drinks in hand, we slide onto stools at a high top.

He sips his beer, wiping a drop from his moustache, and shakes his head.

“What?” I ask.

“You were unreal today. Beyond my expectations. If you want to come out for a night hunt, you let me know.”

“What’s a night hunt? I think my body needs a break before I do much else.”

“We take watch for the beasts, sometimes get a chance to kill them.” So, a hunt, for my own . . .

“Maybe tomorrow night?” I need to learn more so I can leave.

“It’s a date.” As he shifts, his spandex layer hugs the muscles across his chest, and I struggle not to stare. Three years since Pratt’s lockdown of me going into the city is not helping.

“So, can I ask a question?”

My head snaps up from his body and the heat in my chest fires. They’re not the blue eyes I want staring back at me. I’ll be lucky if Stark doesn’t lock me up when I show up after being away. If I make it out of here. “Anything.”