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chapter 2

Chapter 2: Blood Debt

I was seventeen the first time my sister tried to kill me.

The private range outside the city smelled like gun oil and cold concrete. Marcus handed me the ear protection with a grin. He was from school, kind in a way that got him noticed for the wrong reasons. He liked me because I laughed at his jokes. Andrea hated me for it.

"Don't," Andrea said. Her voice was sweet. She always sounded sweet right before she did something cruel. "He'll get bored with you too, Alexis."

Victoria stood behind the glass, watching. She never stopped Andrea. Andrea was the good daughter. The clean one. The one being groomed for a good marriage. I was the spare.

Marcus loaded the target pistol. "Ignore her. Eyes forward."

Andrea picked up the other gun. "Let's play."

It wasn't a game anyone else knew the rules to. She raised her weapon, not at the paper target downrange, but at me. Her finger was already on the trigger. Her smile was perfect.

"Andrea," Victoria said, bored. Not stop. Just her name.

Marcus saw it before I did. He stepped in front of me. Fast. Stupid. Brave.

The shot cracked through my ear protection like thunder.

Marcus went down hard. Blood spread across his white shirt in a shape I still see when I close my eyes. He looked at me, confused, mouth opening, no sound coming out.

Andrea lowered the gun. Her hands weren't shaking.

"Oops," she said.

Victoria was already moving. Not to Marcus. To Andrea. She took the gun from her daughter's hand, wiped it clean, pressed it into mine. My fingers were numb. The metal was warm.

"It was you," Victoria whispered against my ear. "You were jealous. You fired. Understand?"

I understood. I always understood. The good daughter doesn't kill people. The spare takes the blame.

The range owner burst through the doors two minutes later, too late. He dropped to his knees beside Marcus, shouting for an ambulance that wouldn't matter. I looked up once. At the gun in my hand. At Andrea crying perfect tears in our mother's arms.

Sirens wailed somewhere far away.

Andrea met my eyes over Victoria's shoulder. She wasn't crying anymore. She mouthed one word. Mine.

Then she turned and ran.

I stood there holding the gun that killed him, with my mother's fingerprints over my sister's over mine.

Nobody chased Andrea.