Chapter 4

The range was on Long Island, private property of the Rossi family.

Today it was empty, just us. The cold air was thick with gunpowder and gun oil.

Vincent went to handle the paperwork. Grace and I stood in the waiting area. She held the baby, glancing around nervously. Occasional gunshots made her flinch.

"Vincent says it's safe here," she said quietly, as if reassuring herself. "He says he'll protect me."

I ignored her.

Vincent returned soon with two guns and ear protection.

He went to Grace first, handing her ear protection, expertly helping her put it on, speaking softly. "Bend your head, I'll help you. The gunshots will be loud in a bit. Don't be scared."

Then he walked over to me with the other gun and ear protection.

"For you. Beretta 92FS, the one you're used to." He handed me the gun, his gaze complex. "Be careful."

I took the gun without waiting for his help, putting on the ear protection myself. The metal's cold touch came through my gloves.

Vincent then patiently began teaching Grace—how to stand, how to grip the gun, how to aim.

He stood behind her, nearly encircling her, holding her hands, correcting her form over and over.

His tone held a patience and gentleness I hadn't heard in ages.

"Right, like that. Relax, don't tense your shoulders..."

I walked to a shooting position nearby, expertly loading, chambering, raising the gun, aiming.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Three shots, bullets hitting the distant target dead center.

The massive recoil made my palm sting, but strangely calmed my chaotic mind.

He'd taught me all this, hand over hand.

Grace jumped at my gunfire, crying out, shrinking into Vincent's embrace.

Vincent frowned at me, seeming to want to say something, but ultimately held back, turning to soothe Grace in a lower voice. "It's fine, you'll get used to it. I'm here."

After about fifteen minutes, Vincent finally settled Grace, seating her in the nearby rest area, then walked toward me.

"Evelyn," he began, his voice muffled through the ear protection, "can you hold the baby for a bit? I'll teach her the basics."

I acted like I didn't hear him, loading a fresh magazine, closing my left eye, raising the gun again.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Another burst, every shot hitting home.

The baby's crying and Grace's scream came almost simultaneously—she'd been startled by my gunfire and the baby's sudden wailing.

Vincent immediately turned, striding over, taking the baby from Grace's arms, speaking softly as he soothed it, brow furrowed tight.

Holding the baby, he walked toward the outer lounge, probably to find staff help.

Grace stood there, face pale, looking at me with tearful eyes.

After a while, she slowly walked toward me, holding a small pistol—the practice piece Vincent had given her.

"Miss Hawthorne," her voice carried a sob but also strange calm, "I heard these bullets are safe, can't kill anyone. Is that true?"

I lowered my gun, looking at her coldly.

She suddenly raised the barrel—not at the target, but toward the empty space beside her own arm—and pulled the trigger!

As the gun fired, the explosive crack of a malfunction shook the air!

Time seemed to stretch. I saw her gun hand instantly covered in blood, shrapnel likely hitting her arm and cheek. She let out a piercing shriek, crumpling down.

Vincent burst in like an arrow shot from a bow.

"Grace!"

He didn't even glance at me, charging straight to Grace hunched on the floor, sweeping her up in his arms.

Her arm hung limp, blood dripping onto the clean floor.

"Vincent!" I shouted. A sharp pain shot through the back of my hand. Looking down, I saw a tiny metal fragment had somehow torn through my glove and embedded in my skin, blood seeping out.

But he didn't turn back, cradling Grace, stumbling frantically toward the exit.

I sank weakly to the floor, ears ringing.

My vision began to blur. In the last second before consciousness faded, I saw his retreating back carrying Grace out, brow furrowed, eyes full of heartache and anxiety.

Compared to the wound in my heart, the injury on my hand was nothing.

But it hurt so much.