Page 131 of Hymns of the Broken
Silas lifts a brow. “Not bad.” His tone softens, almost reverent. “You were always going to survive, weren’t you?”
Something twists in my chest as I glance at him—at the lines carved deep into his face. And for the first time, I wonder how much of him has survived.
I steady my grip, fire again. Another crack, another rush. This one lands just right of center. My nerves spark, electric.
“Damn,” a voice drawls behind me, lazy and low. “Remind me not to piss you off, baby.”
I turn.
Riot struts up with that untouchable swagger—tattoos flexing under a sleeveless shirt, backwards hat low, smirk hooked sharp into his mouth. His eyes sweep from the target to me, pride radiating off him like heat.
“That grouping’s tight,” he says, giving me a look that makes my knees weaken. “Sure you haven’t done this before?”
I shrug, coy. “Silas said I’m a natural.”
Riot snorts. “Silas says that about his cat.”
Silas flips him off, but Riot’s already grabbing a pistol. Three shots ring out—chest, head, head. Flawless.
He spins the gun like a showman, lips curled in a grin. “Guess we’re both naturals.”
“Show-off,” Silas groans.
But the air changes.
I feel it before I see him. A prickle at the back of my neck.
Jasper.
He leans against a tree, arms crossed, black shirt clinging to muscle. Not watching the targets. Eyes always on me.
Slow, deliberate, he steps forward. Picks up earmuffs, a gun. No words. Just presence.
“How long have you been out here?” His voice is low, dangerous heat wrapped in velvet.
I arch a brow, aiming for casual. “Long enough to collect enemies.”
His mouth almost twitches. Almost.
And then—
“YO!” Macee’s voice slices the tension, sparkling and chaotic. “Are you people playing war games without me?”
We all turn.
She struts down the hill barefoot, oversized sunglasses on, iced coffee in hand, towel slung over her shoulder like she’s starring in a crime drama.
Behind her? Ash and Jace barrel down the slope, yelling like kids chasing the ice cream truck.
“I call shotgun!” Ash yells, tripping over a root.
“It’s not a car, dumbass!” Jace shouts back.
Macee barely breaks stride, holding her drink aloft like a queen. “Whatever’s happening, it better involve chaos or shirtless distractions.”
Riot lifts his shirt, flashing abs and ink. “We’ve got both.”
Ash skids to a stop, panting. “Do I get points if I shoot blindfolded?”
