Amara tightened the laces of her boots as she walked down the gravel path. She'd been expecting to see Lila waiting with her usual confident grin and teasing quips. Instead, the range looked almost deserted, except for Damien.
He stood at the far end, leaning against the small wooden table where spare ammunition and protective ear gear were stacked in neat rows. He wore a dark fitted shirt rolled to his elbows, black tactical pants, and a shoulder holster slung carelessly over one arm. The way the morning light touched his hair and the set of his jaw made her stomach flutter in a way she refused to admit even to herself. But the absence of Lila struck her immediately.
"Damien?" she called out, walking closer, her boots crunching on the gravel. "Where's Lila? I thought she was supposed to
