Chapter 5 #2
“Just breathe for a few seconds.” There were several moments of silence and I took the time to focus on my breathing. Soon, my heart rate slowed and my nerves eased.
“Now, open your eyes, focus on the target, and pull the trigger.”
He let go of me, and I felt him back away. I opened my eyes, lining up the target on the first tree with the tiny sight on the gun. I waited a few seconds, making sure I was locked on the target before I pulled the trigger.
My arms jerked up slightly from the recoil, sending me back a step. “God, that was loud.”
Enzo nodded towards the trees. “Let’s see how you did.”
We walked over to the first tree. Enzo examined the bark, running a hand over it. He tapped a spot in between the second and third ring of the target. “Not bad for your first time.”
I frowned. “Not very accurate.”
He smirked. “Well, a hit is a hit. Even if it’s not a vital organ, it will still slow someone down. And if you fire multiple times, you’re bound to hit something important.”
I laughed. “I guess I’ll try to remember that when I’m fighting for my life.”
Enzo’s smirk fell, his mouth setting into a hard frown. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
The intensity in his voice made my stomach knot. “I know,” I replied softly.
We practiced for about half an hour with the pistol before Enzo took out a shotgun. A lump formed in my throat.
“If worse comes to worst, you might have to resort to this,” Enzo said. “I know it’s intimidating, but I’d rather you be prepared than not.”
I nodded, swallowing the lump. “Just point and shoot, right?” I joked, trying to make light of the situation.
He chuckled. “With this, you don’t need to be as accurate as with the glock. Literally just aim, pull the trigger, and you’ll hit your target.”
“Sounds easy enough,” I said as he handed me the gun. When he let go, I almost dropped it. “Wow, this is heavier than I expected.”
“Definitely need both hands. And you need to be careful when you shoot this thing because the recoil is a bitch.”
I arched a brow and he laughed. He came around behind me again and positioned my hands on the gun in what I assumed was the proper hold.
“Try to angle it where the butt of the gun is off to the side. Wouldn’t want it to hit you in the stomach or chest; that would definitely knock the wind out of you. ”
“Good to know.” Knowing that the kick-back on the shotgun was worse than the other gun made me nervous.
Enzo’s grip tightened on mine. “Make sure your hold is firm. That helps a little with the recoil.”
One of my hands was under the barrel, and the other was on the trigger. “With a shot gun, you want to pull the barrel back as soon as you shoot to get ready for the next one. This one has sixteen rounds so you have eight shots.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to support you during the first shot so you’re not as jostled by the recoil.” He moved his hands to my wrists and held firm. “Shoot.”
I pulled the trigger, and even with Enzo’s support, the recoil sent me stumbling back into him. “Whoa.”
“Yeah. Takes some getting used to. Again.”
I steadied myself, making sure my footing was firm like my grip as I shot again. I bumped into Enzo again, but he barely moved that time. “Good. Now try by yourself.”
He let go and stepped off to the side, out of the way. I tightened my grip and steadied myself, then pulled the trigger.
Without Enzo there, I staggered back a few steps, but I didn’t lose my balance. That was a win for me.
“You’re getting the hang of it,” Enzo commented, the corner of his mouth lifting in a lopsided smirk. “Keep going.”
I fired the rest of the bullets, then Enzo decided I’d had enough target practice. He took the shotgun from me. “I have one of these by the fireplace, and one under the couch. And if you decide to use one, don’t let them take it from you. That would be the end for both of us.”
My stomach knotted. “Got it. Emergencies only.” I did not want to risk mine or Enzo’s life on my ability to handle a shotgun.
“Let’s head back. You can relax for a bit before we work on hand-to-hand,” Enzo said as he started to walk back to the cabin.
When we got back, Enzo went to check the perimeter and test some of the security he’d set up. But before he left, he commented, “Good work out there, kid. I know all this must be a lot to take in and you’re handling everything well.”
My face heated and butterflies fluttered in my stomach. “Thank you.”
When Enzo came back a couple of hours later, I was drawing in my sketchbook. “Hey. It’s starting to come down out there now,” he stated, closing the door behind him. The snow had started right after he’d left and was coming down pretty thick. His jacket was covered in it. “What are you doing?”
He looked genuinely interested. I felt a little embarrassed, so I closed my sketchbook. “Nothing really. I draw, but I haven’t in a while, so I’m a little rusty.”
“Really?” He arched a brow. “Why did you stop?”
I shrugged. “I haven’t really had the time with planning the wedding and preparing for marriage.” I should’ve been thinking about college and trips to explore the world, not getting ready to become a wife and have children.
Enzo’s brows furrowed. “You’re too young for all that shit. It surprises me that your father actually planned this. He seems to care for you more than that.”
I looked down at the sketchbook in my lap. “Yeah. I guess tradition outweighs happiness.”
He chortled. “Some traditions are better left in the past.”
That made me smile. “Agreed.”
He gripped the back of the couch. “Are you up for some hand-to-hand combat?” He nodded at the window. “We’re going to be stuck in here for a while.”
I looked back outside, feeling a little claustrophobic. The impending storm reminded me of the direness of our situation. We were about to be snowed in like sitting ducks waiting for the Sorellos to find us.
“Hey,” Enzo said softly, placing his hand on my shoulder. “They’re not going to be here for at least another week. Longer if this storm continues.”
I took a deep breath and nodded, bringing my gaze to his. “You’re right. I don’t know why but it just makes it seem more real for some reason.”
“I get it. But we have to stay calm and focused to make it through this.” He gave me a teasing grin. “Can’t have you spiraling over some snow.”
I smacked my tongue, then tossed a balled up piece of paper I had next to me at him. “Shut up.”
He chuckled. “I think I might have some sparring gear in the basement. I’ll be right back.”
Enzo opened the door to the basement and disappeared down the stairs. He was gone for a few minutes before I heard his footsteps on the stairs. When he appeared in the doorway, he had a wide grin.
I arched a brow. “What?”
He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest. The simple gesture was so sexy and I didn’t know why. “I forgot how much sparring gear we had down there. My parents kept everything, apparently. Including the wrestling mat my brother and I used to spar on.”
“Are you serious? You want me to go down there with you and wrestle?”
A smirk curved one corner of his sexy, stupid mouth. “Yes. Unless you’re too scared.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, knowing he was trying to get under my skin. “You’re on.”
I popped up from the couch and followed Enzo down into the basement. What I hadn’t told him was I really didn’t need any combat training.
Even though my father was old fashioned, he put me in self-defense classes when I was young. He wanted me to be able to take care of myself if the worst ever happened; in case he and all his men were killed and I was left alone with the enemy.
So I had a decade of self-defense experience.
And I couldn’t wait to show Enzo.
The basement was colder than the rest of the cabin, the air thick with dust and the faint smell of pine.
Enzo had turned it into a makeshift training space: a worn mat on the concrete floor, boxes pushed against the walls; there was one bulb overhead casting light that flickered like it was nervous.
Enzo went to the far edge of the worn mat. Our eyes met from across the mat and I smirked.
“What?” he asked, his lips curving up slightly as he arched a brow.
“Nothing. I’m just imagining you and your brother rolling around down here.”
Enzo chuckled. “Some of my sparring gear might fit you. I was smaller back then.”
“I think I’ll be okay,” I said with a smirk. “You won’t be too rough, right?”
His eyes darkened. “Not at first. Once you get more comfortable, I might turn it up a bit. I want things to be realistic so you’re prepared.”
“Well, I won’t have sparring gear if the Sorellos show up, right?”
His lips curved up in a teasing grin. “I don’t know. I might put all the protective gear I have on you, just to be safe. I think I have a bulletproof vest somewhere down here.”
I laughed. “Just bubble wrap me, huh?”
He shrugged. “Whatever keeps you safe.”
My face heated and my stomach did a little flip. “What are you going to show me first?”
“Show me how you’d hit me.”
I hesitated, on purpose, before throwing the weakest punch I could manage. He caught my wrist, quick and sharp, turning it just enough to make it sting. Then I was off balance, colliding with his chest.
His arm steadied me, firm and impersonal. “Lesson one,” he murmured. “Don’t think too much before you move. That could cost you your life.”
He had no idea I could have had him on the floor by now if I wanted to. But something in the way he was teaching me, trying to look out for me, made me keep up the act.
I took a step back, raising an eyebrow. “Lesson two,” I said, half teasing, “don’t underestimate someone because they hesitate.”
That earned a flicker of a smile. “Again.”
So we moved. Again and again. He corrected my stance, guided my hands, explained how to shift my weight — all things I already knew. But watching him work was fascinating. He was controlled, precise; like every movement was weighed against the cost of survival.