Page 130 of Hymns of the Broken
The words land heavy, squeezing my chest. My breath comes shakily.
“You think they’ll be okay with this?” I ask, daring to glance at him. “With both of them. Sharing.”
A huff escapes him—something between amusement and disbelief. “Sawyer, they’ve survived worse than falling for the same girl. What scares them isn’t your choosing—it’s losing you. Both of them know if they push too hard, they risk that.”
The truth stings. But it soothes too.
I swallow hard. “I’m scared I’ll hurt one of them. Or both.”
“Love usually does,” Silas says, quieter now. He shrugs, looking older than his years. “Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”
We stand in silence, letting it settle—the weight, the honesty, the reminder that want is never simple.
Then Silas shakes it off, the shadow slipping from his face as he cracks a sly grin. “C’mon. I’m not leaving you to mope in a house full of emotionally constipated men. You look like you need a distraction.”
I laugh—broken but grateful.
Silas tilts his chin, brow quirking. “Ever shot a gun before?”
I blink. “Uh… no?”
“Perfect.” His grin flashes, sharp with mischief. “Let’s go fix that.”
I trail him down a shadowy hallway that spits us onto a sunlit patio, then out into the sprawling yard. The mansion looms behind us—gothic and silent—while a path leads to a clearing I hadn’t noticed before.
A shooting range.
Of course. Rich bastard. I almost laugh out loud.
Target dummies stand in a row, battered and bullet-riddled. A heavy wooden table sits beneath a faded awning, littered with guns, ammo boxes, ear protection. Half outlaw, half military—all chaos.
Silas tosses me a pair of earmuffs. “Brought these out right before I found you. Hope you’re not scared of noise.”
I snort, sliding them on. “You remember I live on a bus with Ash, right?”
He grins, that dry older-brother humor slipping through. Then he grabs a Glock, sliding the mag in with practiced ease.
He standsbehind me—close, but not invasive. Steady hands, silent reassurance. Adjusting my stance with gentle taps to my elbows and legs.
“Don’t lock your arms. Shoulders loose. Deep breath in… exhale as you squeeze.” His hand hovers over mine—near, but not touching.
“You ready?”
My hands shake, but I nod. “No. But yeah.”
He chuckles. “Best way to start.”
The world narrows—me, Silas, the thump of my heart, the cold weight of the gun.
BANG.
The kick jolts me harder than expected.
“You alright?” he asks instantly.
I force my eyes open, look at the target. Not dead center—but close. Way closer than I thought.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, adrenaline dizzying.
