Page 30 of Fury

“Even if you’re in a rush and the situation is frantic, I want you to always take a split second to make sure your feet are planted firmly on the ground. If the gun throws back and you topple with it, then your opponent has the upper hand, especially if you miss. Your feet are your backbone, make sure they’re grounded.”

Fury is standing behind me, his rough voice in my ear as his arms stretch around me, enclosing mine as we hold a gun out in front of me. He’s showing me how to stand, where to point, how to aim, and how to shoot. I’m not a big fan of guns, but something about this little lesson is making me feel a touch safer. Maybe it’s knowing that I have a little control over my life, even if it’s minor.

“What if he’s lunging at me and I lose my footing?” I ask, my fingers rubbing up and down over the trigger, nervous to pull it.

“It takes a split second to make sure your foot is on the ground. We’ll practice.”

He steps away from me, takes the gun, and pulls out the bullets before putting the safety on and handing it back to me. “It’s safe, we’re goin’ to see how you’d handle it if I lunged at you.”

“Are you sure you got all the bullets out?” I question, holding the gun down, refusing to lift it and risk shooting him if he’s wrong.

“Had this gun since I was fifteen years old. Trust me when I say, I know it better than I know myself.”

My eyes widen. “You had a gun at fifteen.”

He glances at me as he stands in front of me, shrugging off his jacket as the afternoon grows warm. “I didn’t come from a rosy little family, golden eyes.”

“I didn’t think you did. What other reason would you have to join a motorcycle club if it weren’t for a bad life?”

He pauses, his eyes flashing as he looks over to me. “For a teacher who has studied and no doubt seen parts of the world, you’re very fuckin’ set in your black and white ways.”

“I am not,” I scoff, offended.

“You assume that to join a club, we must have had a bad fuckin’ life. Ever think we join because we want to?”

“Why?” I blurt, before thinking. “I mean, everyone I’ve met has been really great, but I still don’t understand why you would become a criminal ... for fun.”

“It’s more than fun,” he grinds out. “It’s family, loyalty, a brotherhood you couldn’t begin to understand. Those men would die for me, a million times over, without so much as a second thought. You got anyone in your life that would do that for you?”

My cheeks grow hot with a mixture of shame and sadness. I don’t have anyone in my life that would do that for me.

That’s a sobering thought.

It only pushes that emptiness in my soul out a little further, until it consumes just a touch more of me.

One day, there will be nowhere else for it to go, and I have to wonder what that day will bring for me.

“Didn’t fuckin’ think so. You need to get off your high horse. The man you married is a far bigger fuckin’ monster than anyone in my club, and he ain’t a criminal. Don’t fool yourself, Alexis, into thinking a title makes a person.”

I’ve made him angry, and if I’m being brutally honest, I’ve made myself angry too. When did I become so judgmental? At what point did I become better than anyone else? He’s right, I’m living with a man who has a good job, a stable home, and yet behind closed doors he’s the worst of them. Who am I to judge a club that I know nothing about?

“You’re right,” I say, softly. “I know nothing about your club, and I have no right to assume anything. I’m sorry.”

His angry glare softens a touch. “One day, I’ll show you what it’s really like to be part of my family. Until then, let’s keep goin’.”

I nod, fighting back the shame and frustration with myself.

Fury and I go over scenario after scenario, with him lunging at me from different angles, and, each time, I get a little better at grounding myself before swinging the gun in his direction. By the end of it, I’ve got the hang of it and have a whole lot more confidence that I might actually be able to do this if I need to. I hope that situation never comes up, but it makes me feel a little better knowing that if it does, I could handle it.

“Thank you for this,” I tell Fury, as he puts his gun away in his truck before shuffling around and coming out with another one.

He hands it to me.

I stare down at it, eyes wide.

“You didn’t think I was goin’ to teach you how to shoot a gun when you don’t have a gun to shoot?”

I mean, no, but ...

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