Page 41 of Grim’s Angel

Grim scrubs a hand over his jaw. I watch the battle between the president who controls threats and the man who promised he would never control me.

“You’re right,” he says.

The concession does not come easily. That makes it matter.

“I hate that you’re right,” he continues. “I want you behind locked doors until every man hunting you is in the ground.”

“That sounds inconvenient for the men.”

His mouth twitches. “You have no idea.”

“I don’t need permission to face my brother. I need the truth about the danger before I walk into it, and I need to know you’ll stand with me when I do.”

His gaze holds mine. “You’ll have both.”

“Starting with Alan?”

“Starting with learning how to protect yourself before we go near him.”

Grim takes me to the club’s indoor range inside a reinforced outbuilding beyond the garage. He gives me safety glasses and ear protection before placing a pistol on the bench.

This time, the weapon is unloaded.

He shows me the empty chamber, then teaches me how to check it myself. Only after I confirm there is no ammunition inside does he place the pistol in my hands.

“Feet apart,” he says. “Lean forward a little.”

“If you tell me to relax, I will shoot you again.”

“You are holding an empty gun.”

“Details.”

“May I?”

I nod.

He moves behind me, his chest warm against my back. His uninjured arm reaches around me, and his hand covers mine as he adjusts my grip.

“I was careless at the station,” he says near my ear. “I needed you to believe you had power over what happened next, and I put it in your hand before teaching you how to carry it. That was my mistake.”

“I pulled the trigger.”

“We can share the blame.” His mouth brushes the hair near my temple. “I still keep the scar.”

I glance at him. “You think it will scar?”

“I intend to show people where my woman marked me.”

My breath catches. “Your woman?”

His gaze turns molten. “Tell me the words offend you.”

They should. I was listed, purchased, and described as property by men who never cared what I wanted.

From Grim, the words feel different because he has never used them to take a choice away.

“They don’t.”