Page 24 of Bound By Valor

“Fine!” Logan exhaled, his annoyance giving way to a reluctant smile.

We made our way to the back of the warehouse where Logan set up a makeshift range with empty beer bottles as targets. He handed me a Luger Kel-Tec, its compact form fitting snugly in my hand. “It’s a pocket gun, with minimal recoil. But still, becareful,” he instructed, pointing out the features. “It’s double action, no manual safety. Just point and shoot.”

“Point and shoot,” I repeated under my breath, adopting a stance I’d seen countless times in films. I noticed Logan’s smirk out of the corner of my eye and shook my head, determined to focus.

I aimed at the left-most beer bottle and fired. The bottle shattered spectacularly into pieces. Rather than celebrate, I steeled myself and quickly took down the next target, and the next, until all five were demolished.

“I guess you don’t need me to teach you how to aim,” Logan chuckled, impressed.

“Was it a fluke?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t.

“Well, let’s see,” he said, picking up another bottle and placing it on his head as he stood back at the target area, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

What the fuck?

I shook my head swiftly, but he just smiled wider.

Well, fuck it.

“Your funeral,” I shouted, half-joking, half-serious, and took aim at the bottle perched precariously on his head.

The shot rang out, and the bottle exploded, leaving Logan unscathed. I exhaled a shaky breath of relief, quickly walked up to him, and punched him in the gut.

“You’re fucking crazy! What if I had actually shot you?”

“It wasn’t a fluke when you shot five bottles in a row, Leo.” He laughed, dodging the additional punches I threw in mock anger.

Deep down, I felt liberated. It was as though thefragmented pieces of my life were snapping into place, forming a coherent picture after years of chaos. This rush, this pulse of life—it was something I hadn’t truly felt in far too long.

“Get back inside, you morons. We have incoming, code yellow,” Amelia yelled from the corner of the warehouse.

“Aah fuck me!” Logan sighed and slowly started walking back to the warehouse.

“Shouldn’t you hurry?”

“Code yellow, the threat is more than twelve hours away. Code red, the threat is here breathing down our necks. Capiche?”

“Got it,” I smiled as I followed him back into the warehouse.

???

“Squad Two was hit, we’ve lost three of the members. Brewer is alive, barely,” Kabir announced as Logan and I walked back in. His voice carried a trace of his Indian accent, though it was gradually melding into an American one. He sat at the table, his laptop open before him. Amelia hovered behind, her eyes scanning the screen over his shoulder.

“Who did we lose?” Zarek asked, his voice steady as he methodically loaded his magazines and strapped on his vest.

“Kaylan, Kyle, and…” Kabir’s voice trailed off. He glanced up at Dylan, his expression crumbling, “Fuck.”

“Kabir?” Zarek pressed, urgency lacing his tone.

“It was Riley,” Amelia interjected softly, her voice barely a whisper. She abruptly stood, walked over tothe punching bag, and unleashed a ferocious punch against it.

Dylan’s breathing hitched, his frame rigid as tears glossed over his eyes. Logan moved to his side, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder.

“What am I missing?” I whispered to Zarek, feeling suddenly outside the circle of grief.

“Riley was Dylan’s…” Zarek paused, his eyes shutting as if to block out the pain, “She was Dylan’s.”

Watching Dylan, a mountain of a man, his emotions warping his features into a visage of agony, stirred something deep within me. He stormed off to his room, the door slamming with a force.

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