Chapter 5 #2
For these brief moments, I’m not the damaged Omega who was taken and used. I’m not the untouchable broken thing Aaiden refuses to touch. I’m just Jade, Caleb’s student, doing what I was trained to do.
The final shot rings out, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. Six targets, twelve shots, all but one in the kill zone. Not perfect, but close.
“You’re still favoring your right side.” Caleb steps closer to examine my stance. “Adjust your grip. Thumbs forward, higher on the frame.”
As I make the adjustment, the gun sits more naturally in my hands now, an extension rather than a tool.
He takes the gun from me, reloads the magazine, and hands it back. “Again.”
This time, I hit all twelve shots in the kill zone. My breathing has steadied, my hands no longer shake, and finally, my mind quiets.
“Once more,” Caleb says, and I comply without question, reloading the gun myself this time.
I empty the magazine, the shots forming a tight group in each target’s center. When I lower the weapon, my body hums with a clean, familiar purpose where nothing exists but the target and my ability to hit it.
“Better,” Caleb says, and from him, it’s high praise. “Your recovery time is acceptable.”
He doesn’t smile, doesn’t offer congratulations or platitudes about how well I’m doing, considering what happened. No one would say Caleb is kind, not even his mate, but I’ve never needed kindness from him. I need to be valued, respected, and corrected without mercy when I overstep.
And he gives that to me without me having to beg for it.
I eject the empty magazine and check the chamber, the routine so ingrained it requires no thought.
“Thank you,” I say, the words inadequate, but all I can manage.
Caleb accepts my thanks without dwelling on it. “Two more days of drills. Keep improving, and we’ll reassess for field readiness.”
Two more days. Not next week.
My breath hitches. “Will you be back to handling my missions from now on?”
His scoff cuts through my moment of hope. “No. I don’t do revenge missions. You’re stuck with Aaiden for those.”
My shoulders slump, and as Caleb turns to reset the targets, I keep the Glock in my hand, testing its weight and balance one more time.
If I walk out with this gun now, I regain at least one piece of control. I slide my finger along the frame.
“I’ll clean this,” I say as I step toward the door.
Caleb turns back, and before I take another step, his hand closes over the gun, not yanking it away but not letting me keep it, either. “You know the rules.”
I maintain my grip for three heartbeats, long enough to make my point but not long enough to turn this into a fight.
When I release the weapon, Caleb takes it with the same efficiency he does everything else, checking the chamber again.
“You can have it back once you’re cleared for duty.” He secures the gun in the lockbox on the side table. “Operation isn’t ready, anyway.”
My jaw tightens so hard I hear a faint pop near my ear. “I hit every target.”
“You did.” Caleb doesn’t deny it as he secures the ammunition in a separate container. “And you’re improving. Two more days of drills.”
For a second, I think this might be enough.
Two days. A timeline. A path back.
Then I picture myself sitting. Waiting.
And the sense of peace I found for a moment curdles.
“You’re the same as him,” I say, the words escaping before I can stop them.
Caleb pauses, turning back to me with a slight furrow between his brows. “What?”
“You trained me for this life. You know what I’m capable of!” I fling a hand out toward the targets. “But now you’re treating me like a broken weapon, the same as Aaiden does.”
Caleb scowls. “Because you are broken. And right now, you’re more of a liability than a weapon. If it were up to me, you’d be benched right now, but Aaiden thinks you need an outlet.”
The mention of the head of the Rockford family brings on a fresh surge of frustrated anger. “I can’t sit around in this cage, waiting for everyone else to decide my life for me.”
Caleb turns to me. “No one’s caging you, Jade.”
“No?” I laugh, the sound ugly. “Then give me my weapons back. Let me hunt. Let me finish what I started.”
“When you’re cleared,” Caleb repeats, his patience showing the first signs of wear.
“And who makes that decision? Aaiden? You? Some doctor who never saw what I lived through?” My volume rises with each question. “Everyone keeps telling me to wait, to recover, to behave. But no one is listening to what I need.”
The pressure under my skin builds, a live wire running through my veins. I can’t stand still, can’t breathe through the tightness in my chest.
Caleb points to the door. “Go cool your head in the gym. You’ve gotten lazy during recovery, and it’s turned you into a brat.”
“Fuck you!” I shout and storm past him and a wide-eyed Milo toward the door.
“Jade, wait,” Milo says, moving to follow.
“Leave him alone,” Caleb orders. “He needs to lash out, and my brother will kill me if I let you become his target.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?” Milo snaps. “I understand you feel guilty for letting him get taken—”
I slam out into the hall before I have to hear the end of that conversation. It’s not Caleb’s fault that Tony’s people grabbed me during the mission to take down the group that auctioned Milo off as a slave.
It was my fault for being too cocky. For not checking in when I should have and letting myself get separated from the group. I had seen the man tracking Milo and Liam through the parking lot and took off without telling the rest of the team what was happening.
But instead of leaving with them, I’d stayed to clean up more of Tony’s stragglers.
Everything that happened afterward was because I didn’t follow protocol.
The knowledge only fuels the fire threatening to burn me up inside.
I don’t blame anyone but myself and Tony’s people for everything that came after I woke up in a cage. But everyone else’s guilt won’t let me move past it.
If I can kill every Alpha who hurt me, maybe everyone will stop viewing me as weak and in need of protection.
Maybe they’ll let me be more than someone to be pitied.
Maybe Aaiden will finally choose me.
The pressure under my skin spikes until it’s unbearable.
Caleb’s right in one respect.
I need to hit something before I tear myself apart.