Jace slides into the space beside me like it was always his, close enough that I can feel the warmth from him at my shoulder. He adjusts the target distance, then glances sideways at me instead of the gun.
“You shoot well,” he says. “But you anticipate recoil.”
I raise a brow. “And you noticed that already?”
“I notice a lot of things.”
His tone isn’t about training anymore.
I line up the shot anyway.
Bang.
Center.
I lower the gun and look at him. “Lucky guess.”
He smirks slightly, blue eyes flicking over my face before drifting lower, not disrespectful, just… very aware.
“You always this defensive?”
“Only with strangers.”
“Good thing I’m planning on not being one.”
Behind us someone chokes — probably Lucas — but I ignore it.
Jace steps closer, adjusting my elbow this time. Hi
