Page 155 of The Piece You Stole

A faint smile pulls on one corner of his lips. “It was Dariel.”

I don’t have to ask which one Aden is: the one who cares.

“And Dariel is the leader because he’s the alpha?”

He nods. “Yes, he’s the leader. But he’s also a protector like Kade.”

Has he forgotten about Dariel lunging at me? Twice. Should I remind him?

Aden’s smile kicks up a little more when he gets a look at my face. “When you get to know him better, you’ll understand.”

I nod, even though I don’t believe him. “Was his wolf crazy back then? And how did you all meet?”

“His wolf isn’t crazy. Andthatis a long story.”

I raise my eyebrow. “We’re stuck in an attic with nothing but each other and a bunch of guns. I think we have the time.”

His smile is so infectious that I can’t help but return it. “Story time can come later. If you want to know how to shoot, I can give you a basic rundown.”

Because we might not have time for more than that.

He doesn’t want to say it, but he must be thinking it. I know I am.

I lower my gaze to the black handgun. Holding it for so long means it doesn’t feel as cold and strange as it did when Aden first curled my hand around it. “So, I aim for Rylan’s head and squeeze?”

“You’re not experienced enough to go for headshots. The body is better for a beginner. Bigger body mass means less chance of missing a shot.”

“Will you be going for headshots?” I ask, surprised by how normal this conversation feels, considering we’re talking about shooting people in the head.

“Turn around and face the door,” he says, releasing my hand.

After glancing at him, I do as he says.

He moves quietly around me. When he’s behind me, he slides his hands around mine, and we lift the gun together to just under shoulder-level height, pointing it at the door.

“This is how you hold a gun.” He speaks directly in my ear as his body cradles mine. It isn’t easy to focus on the gun when I still have the memory of how good he made me feel fresh in my head. But this is important, so I focus. “Taking your time is important, but breathing is more so.”

“Why is breathing more important?” I ask, ignoring my throbbing left arm. It’s not even been a minute and I’m already struggling to keep it up.

“You could have lined up the most perfect shot in the world, but do you know what will happen if you get excited and your breathing changes?”

I take a second to think about it, but I don’t have an answer for him. “No.”

He takes two slow, steady breaths. But his third breath is a little faster, and the gun shifts maybe half an inch to the left. “See that?”

I nod. “Breathing made you move.”

“Move it just enough and it will throw off your shot. You can get away with it with a body shot, but with a headshot, you could miss altogether. Calm and controlled is what will save the day here.”

“Not angry?” I ask, fascinated by this side of Aden. I had no idea he would even know how to shoot, let alone be so passionate about it.

“There’s a time for anger. When you have a gun in your hand, is not it.” He gently presses down on my finger. “Thisis how it should feel. Breathe. Squeeze. Follow through. One. Two. Then you take stock. Have you put down the thing you wanted to put down? No? Then you go again. Breathe. Squeeze. Follow through. Do you understand?”

I nod. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is,” Aden says in the same steady tone. “Until something is coming through that door and your adrenaline is like a voice in your head screaming, ‘shoot, shoot anything that moves.’ Panic will ruin every single shot but the one impossible one you make. But it’s always best not to rely on those. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you why.”

The amusement in his voice would make me smile if pain wasn’t shooting up and down my left arm.

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