Page 71 of Dante

He steps behind me. I can feel the heat radiating from his chest against my back.

Dante’s hands come over mine, firm and dry, completely enveloping my smaller ones.

“Here,” he says quietly. “High grip. Lock it in. Don’t think. Feel.”

Dante adjusts my wrists, locking them in place. “Raise it,” he commands.

I lift the gun, the weight making my muscles tremble. “Lean forward. You’re not afraid of the gun. Remember this: it’s afraid of you.”

My finger instinctively slides toward the trigger.

“Finger off the trigger,” he snaps. I jerk my hand back. “Now try it again.”

We repeat the movements until my arms ache. Eventually, he backs away completely. “Now,” he says, crossing his arms. “You do it.”

I plant my feet shoulder-width apart, lock my wrists, and find the perfect tension.

Dante gives a single nod. “Good. Memorize that feeling.”

He reaches under the counter and pulls out a box of brass-colored bullets. Live ammunition. My mouth goes dry. “You’re ready.”

The first shot surprises me. CRACK! My arms snap back, teeth rattling.

My heart slams against my ribs.

“Hold,” Dante says.

I do. Somehow.

Downrange, the paper target trembles. A clean hole is punched wide of center.

Not a bullseye, but not a disaster.

I exhale.

Dante steps behind me, his hand steadying my elbow. “Again.”

I adjust my stance and weight before firing. The second shot lands closer. More controlled.

Dante exhales. “Good.”

The compliment ignites a sense of pride within me.

I finish the magazine, and by the last round, my hands don’t shake.

When the gun clicks empty, Dante takes it and checks the target.

“You learn fast,” he says. Pride flares again in my chest. “Do you feel ready to kill someone who dares attack you?”

I hesitate.

“You must shoot to kill, Gina,” he says, looking into my eyes. “No one can harm what’s mine. You must kill your attacker before he can lay his hands on you. Before he can defile what belongs to me alone.”

“You’re scaring me, Dante. Who’s trying to kill me?”

He looks at me a long moment, as if thinking how to best answer.

“My goal isn’t to worry you. It’s simply to prepare you. I never leave the house without my guns. From this moment on, see that you do not either. A simple precaution.”