(Elara)
The walk to the shooting range wasn’t far, but every step felt like we were sneaking toward some kind of secret rebellion. I could still feel the raw sting of Damon’s words in my chest, but with each step away from the main house, the feeling of pain dulled a little.
The air shifted as we rounded the last corner, cooler here, with a faint, sharp tang of gunpowder clinging to it. The path opened into a secluded stretch of ground hidden behind towering hedges. Wooden partitions stood on either side, blocking the view from prying eyes.
Rows of paper targets and battered dummies stood at the far end of the range, their surfaces shredded from countless hits. Some had been patched over, others looked like they’d been executed on the spot.
And leaning casually against a wooden table,
