Chapter 13
The days pass. I spend most of my time at the range or in my room, despite Gray encouraging me to socialize with him and his friends.
Meanwhile, he’s not there himself half the time.
Turns out Grayson Blake is a workaholic.
He’s constantly in the hangars, training new pilots, flying transports, even working as a mechanic when needed.
At dinner last night, he pored over a flight manual on his tablet and ignored everyone, which pissed off Karra because she was one of the people being ignored.
I heard them fighting about it later. Gray’s girl definitely has a temper.
Cross hasn’t been around much, either. I guess now that he’s no longer chained in a cell, he doesn’t have as much free time, but I wish he would check in more often and tell me what’s happening in the wards, what his brother is planning.
If my gut is correct, the Uprising has plans of their own. They might claim to be in dark mode, but I’m convinced something is stirring at the Dagger, at least among the Authority. Gray disappears into the war room every morning, and whenever I ask him what they’re discussing, he keeps it vague.
This afternoon, I’m heading to the outdoor target range to try out an Old Era rifle that Zak refuses to shut up about. I was surprised by the heft of the rifle case when I checked it out of the armory, and it’s made for a cumbersome walk ten minutes down the mountain.
When I get to the range, I find several other shooters already taking up residence there, including Mako, Evlynne, and an older man named Orin whose marksmanship skills everyone keeps lauding.
The range is in a flat, open area, with metal plates for targets positioned at various distances, and multiple shooting lanes set up on the grassy expanse.
Across the field, Evlynne is working with Wells, the teen I’ve been helping in the indoor range.
He lies flat on his stomach, eye fixed on his scope, while she coaches him.
Her gaze flicks toward me, but she doesn’t offer a hello or other greeting. Not even a smile or nod.
Whatever. I didn’t come to the range today to win Evlynne over.
I’m here for the rifles. This rifle. The TAC-50, a relic from the Old Era.
According to Zak, this bolt-action sniper rifle was used by nearly every global military, and he swears by its accuracy and long-range capabilities.
But I need to see it for myself before I believe it.
I find an empty lane and get settled as a slight breeze moves through the air, carrying the faint odor of gunpowder. Removing the rifle from the case, I admire its heavy-duty barrel. Zak said it was specifically designed to handle the recoil from the .50-caliber round.
When I pick it up, I’m once again startled by the heft. This thing must be fifteen pounds, easy.
From the corner of my eye, I see Mako ambling toward me.
“Heavier than you thought, right?” he chortles.
“Oh yeah. Didn’t expect that.”
“The weight helps stabilize it when you’re firing and controls the recoil. Let me guess, Zak said you had to test it out.”
“Yep. He’s obsessed.”
Mako plops down on the grass a few feet away, watching me set up the TAC-50. He’s so big, his larger-than-life stature mirroring his personality. Every time I see him, he’s cackling about something or sporting that goofy grin.
“Are you sure you want to be seen talking to me in front of your friend Evlynne?” I challenge, raising an eyebrow. I can feel Evlynne’s gaze on us.
“Ev will get over it. She and Neema just have some hang-ups about inciters. They had a bad experience once.”
“Do you really want to risk their wrath? They seem like they’d hold a grudge. I won’t be insulted if you leave.”
“Are you going to incite me?”
“No.”
“Then why would I leave?” He leans back on his elbows. With his shirt stretched tight across his broad chest and shoulders, it looks like his muscles are trying to escape.
I bite back a smile, then position the rifle so it’s pointing toward the closer set of targets. I don’t know if I’m ready to go big right out of the gate.
“Have you shot this rifle before?” I ask Mako.
“I’ve shot ’em all. As far as Old Era rifles go, the TAC is one of my favorites. Solid, powerful. That thing feels like it’s built to last forever.”
“I mean, it sort of has.”
“But my ultimate favorite? The M82. Whenever I fire it, I feel like the universe is communicating with me.”
I snicker. “Uh-huh. Is that so?”
“Oh yeah, Wrenny. That recoil is wild. But it’s worth every single shoulder bruise.”
My first shot confirms that bruising is going to be a likely side effect today. The recoil is intense, making my teeth rattle and vibrating through my shoulder and down my arm.
Mako and I spend the next hour shooting and chatting. When we’re leaving the range afterward, he reveals there’s a party tonight, urging me to come.
“Maybe,” I say noncommittally, but he proceeds to pester me about it the entire walk back to the Dagger, until I finally agree to go.
A few hours after dinner, Gray knocks on my door to take me to the party.
I step into the hall outside our quarters to find him looking handsome and relaxed in a pair of faded blue jeans that hugs his long legs, brown hiking boots, and a button-down shirt in a deep green that brings out his eyes.
As I close my door, the wide neckline of my thin black sweater falls off one shoulder to reveal the strap of my bra, drawing Gray’s attention.
He rakes his gaze over me, making a tsking noise with his tongue. “You’re wasted on the captain, cowgirl.”
“I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate you saying that.”
“I’m not hitting on you, only stating a truth. You’re pure smoke. Way too hot for a cold prick like Redden. That guy doesn’t know how to have fun.”
“Trust me, he knows how to have fun.” I swallow a laugh. “Though maybe not as much as you.”
“Nobody can have as much fun as me.” He swings his arm over my shoulder. “Come on, let’s go and get boozed.”
We make it five feet down the hall before he stops, claiming he forgot something. He jogs back to his quarters and returns a moment later with a rifle.
I raise my eyebrows. “Why do we need a rifle for a party?”
“Lots of white coyotes in these hills,” he explains. “Ridgehowlers, too. Better safe than sorry.”
“You know I’m a much better shot than you, right?”
“Good point.” He slips the strap off and holds the weapon out to me.
“You’re giving me a rifle?” I can’t fight a jubilant smile. Aside from the guns at the range, which I return and lock up after I’m done with them, this is the first time I’ve carried a weapon since I got to the Dagger. “Even though nobody trusts me?”
“Oh, fuck off with that. Everyone loves you. Mako talks about you so much that I think he’s locked, and Lu is dying to be your friend, which you would know if you weren’t so antisocial. But anyway, who cares about everyone else?” Gray winks. “I’m the only one who matters, and I trust you.”
I trust you.
Those three simple words do more for me than he could ever imagine.
Nobody but Kallister knows who my parents are, yet it constantly feels like I’m walking in the shadows of their actions, trying to atone for sins I never even committed.
Knowing I have Gray’s trust dislodges some of that shame and fear from my chest, easing the weight.
We leave the base through the air lock, taking the same path Kallister used when he showed me the white daggerstone cave on the bluff.
The reminder triggers a rush of anxiety.
I hate placing my trust in people I don’t know, and if he wasn’t Uncle Jim’s twin, I’d be a lot more terrified about Kallister knowing my secret.
Earlier, when I told Cross about Kallister’s cave ambush, he made it clear how much he trusted Kallister. As in, not one damn bit. Cross warned me to be on guard and keep my distance. All I can really do, though, is hope that Kallister keeps his promise to stay quiet.
The back of my neck suddenly tingles. Speaking of Cross.
Since I hate ignoring him, I quickly accept the link, but only to say, “Hey. I can’t talk.”
“Why not?” he asks suspiciously.
“I’m with Kaine. We’re—”
“Don’t fucking make me murder that man, Dove.”
I clamp my teeth over my lip to stop from laughing. “Stop it. He’s my friend.”
“Yeah, well, he’s gonna be your dead friend if he tries anything.”
“Can we link up later?” I ask him. “Or is it important?”
There’s a beat. “It can wait.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. We can talk later. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I end the conversation, part of me wondering if I should’ve told Gray to go on ahead and found a private spot to speak to Cross. But how would I ever explain that? Gray doesn’t know Cross is a Mod, and that’s not something I’m about to share.
The path grows narrow as the trail winds higher into the mountain, and my breath hitches when I notice the view beyond the ridge. The moon hangs perfectly between the two peaks, its pale, ethereal light spilling across the rugged terrain. It’s beautiful.
“Is that where the valley is?” I ask, trying to get a better look. I can’t make anything out in the darkness.
“No. The valley is east of here, bordered by mountains on three sides. You can’t see it until you’re right on top of it.”
“Sounds like a great location for a hidden camp.”
“It is.”
I suddenly register the sound of voices up ahead, drifting toward us from the end of the trail.
“We’re almost there,” he says, nodding forward.
I glimpse the lights flickering between the trees like fireflies, casting an orange glow over the dark forest. I hear music now, too, something electronic, and a wave of laughter floats toward us, along with the acrid smell of campfire.