Chapter 29 Elias
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ELIAS
Ihadn’t celebrated my birthday in years. I’d almost forgotten about it, and as soon as Wren realized what the date was, she was set in her plan to make the rest of the day special for me, apologizing profusely for not realizing sooner.
Having her fawn all over me definitely wasn’t a hardship, though, so I didn't really mind if she wanted to make a big deal about it. But right now, I have more important things to worry about.
I watch Wren take aim, and I’m unsure whether I want her to hit the targets or not.
Leaving her back at the hotel tomorrow would make me feel better about her safety, but there’s also a part of me that worries that the second we leave her alone, Ivan will find her.
I suppose we could ask Harry to watch her, but as much as he had proved to be on our side, I couldn’t trust him with her life.
Which means she really was safest being in the field with us.
And she was right. If planning to do this kind of thing long term, she wouldn’t be okay with being left at home to bake cookies each time we went into battle.
Wren had been stuck at home her whole life; this was her opportunity to get out and experience everything.
Even if killing bad guys isn’t my first choice, letting her choose what she does is.
So as she squeezes the trigger and her first shot misses the target I made, I frown, hoping that she can actually pull through and hit the majority of them.
“That was a practice shot,” she says, carefully lowering the gun as she stares at the untouched sheet I cut into the silhouette of a man and attached to the trunk of a tree.
“There are no practice shots in the field," Sly tells her from my side, where we’re all safely standing a good fifteen feet back, directly behind her. “That’s one.”
“Fine,” she grumbles, before lifting the gun and taking aim again. She holds it tightly with both hands and fires. The shot rings loud but clearly misses again.
“That’s two,” Sly says loudly. She lowers the gun to the ground before turning her head to narrow her eyes at Sly.
“I can count, thank you.”
“Just making sure,” he fires back.
She hasn’t hit anything, in any of the times we’ve come out here, at least none of her intended targets. Maybe the two-handed approach wasn’t working for her.
“I think we should change up your grip,” I tell her as I move in behind her.
“You’re just trying to mess me up. I was closer that time.”
“You really weren’t,” I whisper in her ear.
“But I think you should try holding it with one hand. You’re used to the recoil now.
It might take you a shot or two to get used to it with one hand, but you might find you have better aim,” I explain as I remove her left hand and place my right over hers, and we lift the gun together as I show her how to hold it.
“Now look down your arm and the barrel and aim.”
“Do I close my right eye?”
“No,” I shake my head. “That’s for snipers.”
“Wait—You weren’t closing an eye before, were you?” I ask, realizing what the problem might have been.
“Kinda.”
Some chuckling breaks out behind us, but we choose to ignore it. “Okay, well, that might explain your aim then. You want to try with two hands again, but keeping your eyes open this time?”
“I think I’d like to try with one hand. It feels more natural.”
“That’s good,” I tell her, releasing her hands and squeezing her shoulders. “Whenever you’re ready, then.” I take a few steps back, and she fires before I get far, freezing me in my spot as I see the bullet hole in the edge of the sheet, right near the hip.
“Falcon!” Pete yells in excitement. “You did it!”
She lowers the gun before turning her huge grin toward us. “I hit it!”
“Great job,” I tell her, smiling back. “Try again.”
She nods, turning to the target before her head whips back around, her gaze finding Sly. “Oh, and that’s one,” she says with so much attitude I can’t help but laugh. She grins, pleased with herself as she turns back to the target and lifts the gun; this time, she leaves a hole in the right calf.
I’m not exactly sure where she’s aiming for, because those were strange places to hit, but at least she was hitting it.
“Two!” she yells excitedly before lifting the gun again. I think she’s too excited to really focus this time, as she misses again.
“That’s three misses,” Sly tells her.
“How many shots did we decide on?” Dex asks.
“Twenty,” I tell him. That means she needs to make eleven. I don’t love her odds right now. “Take your time,” I tell her.
“Like she’ll be able to do in the field?” Sly asks as I move back beside him.
“Give her a break,” I whisper so she won’t hear. “She’s trying.”
“I’m surprised you want her anywhere near that warehouse tomorrow,” he says with a frown. “It’s too dangerous.”
“You want her to stay home and have dinner ready for you instead?” I ask, crossing my arms as Wren’s next shot rings out.
I smile when I see the hole in the knee. “That’s three!” I call out. She doesn’t lower her gun this time; she just takes aim and fires again, missing.
“Four,” Sly says. Lowering his voice, he answers my question. “And no, of course not. But she doesn’t belong out there.”
“Uh, sorry, Sly, but I beg to differ,” Pete interjects. “She most definitely belongs out there with us. She’s smart, brave, and she can think quickly on her feet. What more does she have to do to prove it to you?”
“Hit the target eleven times,” he fires back as Wren lets off another shot.
“Woo!” Pete cheers, seeing the hole in its elbow before I do. “She’s getting better,” he says quietly to us.
“If you say so,” Sly says, crossing his arms.
Jagger steps forward to get Sly’s attention as he signs, “You can’t take this from her. She’s been told what to do her whole life.”
Sly’s lips thin as if he wants to argue, but wisely keeps his trap shut, watching as Wren fires off another round.
“Four!” she yells before any of us can find the hole.
“Where?” Sly finally asks.
“In his crotch.” I have to squint and step forward a little to see it, but sure enough, there’s a little nick out of the spot where his legs meet.
She rolls her shoulders back before aiming again, and this one hits it in the center of the thigh. “Yes! That’s five!” she says happily.
“Keep going, baby, you’re doing great!” Dex yells, giving her a thumbs up when she glances at him over her shoulder.
She nods at him, a look of determination filling her as she readjusts her grip and takes aim again. This one hits it just two inches away from the last hole. Pete and Dex both yell, “Six!” as she turns her head to smile at them, pride shining in her bright blue eyes.
The next shot goes wide, missing the target completely. “It’s okay, baby, you got this!” Dex yells, encouraging her.
“Keep your eyes open, and take a deep breath in,” I call out, reminding her of my instructions. I can see her take a breath in and hold it, right before the shot rings out. She hits the ankle this time, and I frown.
She’s only fifteen feet from the target. How is she this bad? She’s more likely to miss completely than hit it in the legs.
I glance at Sly, and he lifts an eyebrow as if she’s proving his point. The only reason she’s still in the lead is because her shots are going low instead of wide.
I move up behind her, making my steps loud and deliberate so I don’t surprise her. “All your shots have been low. Where are you aiming for?”
“The center of his chest, like you told me to,” she says, sounding a little chagrined.
“Okay, why don’t you try aiming for his head? Maybe you’ll hit him in the chest if you aim higher.”
She nods, and I start to step back.
“Hey, Elias?” she calls over her shoulder.
I step back closer to her as I answer, “Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Thanks for being so patient with me. I know I kinda suck at this.”
“You’re getting better,” I tell her honestly.
“I think I’m better with a knife, anyway.”
“Then why did you make this bet?” I ask, thinking she could have made the deal with knives instead of guns.
“Because I wanted to prove to him I belong with the rest of you.”
“Wren.” I frown, turn her to face me, making sure her gun is still pointed down and away from us. “You belong here more than any of us. We’re nothing without you.”
“That’s not true,” she says, dropping her chin.
I use the curve of my finger to tilt her head back up to look at me.
“Wren Rivers, where is this coming from? You know very well that each of us is here because of you. And I don’t mean in this situation in Russia with Ivan.
I mean, in this group. You’re our glue. Without you, I wouldn’t be here, and I doubt those four would have given each other a second glance after they escaped if they didn’t have you to unite them. ”
“But I don’t just want to be a pretty thing that’s kept at home to look nice.
I want to contribute the same way everyone else does.
I feel like I’m not worthy of you all. I don’t want to be left out while you guys go out on adventures.
I want to be part of the team.” A tear rolls down her cheek as the depth of her worries hits me in the chest as hard as a bullet would.
“I’m sorry,” Sly says, suddenly appearing at our side as he looks down at her, looking like he’s in pain. “I didn’t realize that’s how you saw it. I should have.”
She sniffles, and I gently take the gun from her grasp before she forgets she’s holding it. Sly grips her arms and turns her to face him, before sliding his hands up to cup her face. The others move close to surround her, and Sly wipes her tears away with his thumbs.
“No more shooting. You’re coming tomorrow.”
“Really?” She asks, hope filling her voice.
“Yes. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you weren’t worthy of going with us. I’m the one who’s not worthy of you.”
“Truce?” she asks, just like that, forgiving him so easily. I smile as he agrees and kisses her. She’s always been sweet like that. Forgiving easily and not holding grudges. It’s part of what makes her so… her.
But now this means she is coming with us tomorrow, and we are going to have to make a plan that keeps her safe.
A pop song plays loudly as Wren and Pete belt out the words from the kitchen. After we finally agreed on a plan for tomorrow, Wren decided it was time to celebrate my birthday, which included making me dinner.
Pete and Sly offered to help her, probably to try to alleviate some of their guilt. Pete for making her vomit after eating his eggs this morning, and Sly for making her upset.
I just relax back on the couch and watch her happily work alongside them, giving out instructions like the taskmaster she becomes when she’s in there.
“Rule number six, you have to cook eggs before serving them,” she tells Pete.
“Noted,” he says, bobbing his head.
“How do you want these carrots cut?” Sly asks her.
“On an angle, about a quarter inch thick.” He nods and starts slicing them, then she gives Pete more instructions. I’m not sure what they’ll be using eggs for in meatloaf, but that’s why I don't cook; I’d probably be just as bad as Pete.
They work well together, and within forty minutes, a beautifully plated meatloaf with a side of mashed potatoes, carrots, and peas is presented to me.
From the first bite, I’m moaning.
“I had no idea meatloaf could taste this good,” Dex tells her.
“To be honest, I was worried when you said meatloaf,” Pete admits. “I always remember it being a big brick of overcooked beef.”
“I’m glad you all like it,” she says happily.
“It’s excellent,” Sly agrees.
“So good,” I say before taking another bite.
After we finish, Wren presents me with a chocolate birthday cupcake with a small candle in the middle. “Happy birthday, Elias,” she says with a big smile. “Make a wish!”
I close my eyes, wish that we make it through tomorrow unscathed, then blow it out. Everyone claps, then Wren places a tray with the remaining cupcakes on the table. “Everyone dig in!” she says happily.
“Now what do we do?” she asks, looking around at each of us. “What do you normally do at birthday parties? Dancing? Games?”
“Yes, those and drinking,” I tell her. “But if it’s up to me?” I ask, and she nods expectantly. “I think we should just call it a night and go to bed early.”
Her face drops. “You don’t want to celebrate?”
“You’ve already done a lot for me, Wren. Tomorrow is a big day, and we’re getting an early start. I think we should go to sleep early so we’re ready.”
“I think that’s wise,” Sly adds as she glances at him, her lips twisting in thought.
“Come here.” I push out my chair and beckon her closer.
She stands and moves to stand between my legs, and I grip her hips as I explain.
“Thank you for making me dinner and the birthday cupcakes. They were perfect. I haven’t celebrated my birthday in years, and you,” I say, pulling her even closer.
“You remembered what day it is, even after all these years.”
“I know all of your birth dates,” she says, glancing at the others, clearly wanting them to know she would do this for all of them.
“Why don’t you go get ready for bed, and we can fall asleep cuddling while watching a movie?”
“Oh, like cuddling,” she asks, waggling her eyebrows, making me chuckle.
“I mean, actually cuddling. I want you to get some sleep tonight,” I explain as I reach up and cup her cheek. “Anything more will tire you out.”
“You’re sure that’s what you want? It’s your birthday after all. I’ll do anything.”
“Jesus, baby,” I say, dropping my head back and squeezing my eyes shut as I try to control my arousal. But yeah, of course I’d love to fuck her right now, but it wasn’t just us here, and chances are others would want to join, and we’d be up for hours.
“We all need sleep,” I tell her. “Now go get ready like my good girl.” I turn her and give her butt a little tap, putting her into motion.
I watch her walk into the bedroom as I start to question my decision.
“You’re stronger than I am,” Dex says with a smirk. “I can never say no to her.”
“Tomorrow has to go right,” I tell him. “We can’t risk being tired in the morning. If all goes right, we will have plenty of time for that later.”
“He’s right,” Sly says, agreeing with me. “Getting a good night's sleep is the best thing we can do to prepare for tomorrow.”
We all move to get ready for bed, and it isn’t until I’m lying down, holding Wren tightly against me, that I start to really worry about tomorrow.
Everything hinges on this plan going perfectly. I’ve tried to plan for as many contingencies as possible, but it just takes one mistake or one thing not to go as expected for everything to fall apart.
Our freedom isn’t the only thing on the line tomorrow. Our lives are, too.