Chapter Thirteen
Gemma’s eyes widened as they raked over the environment. The training course was unlike anything she’d ever seen.
They stood in a room that resembled a miniature version of the gladiatorial stadium in Capital City, its floor glowing in shades of cyan and cerulean, but with mirrors for walls.
A massive rack of weapons towered before them, loaded with munitions from medieval Earth to those used today.
A boxing ring was sectioned off with blazing white ropes, and fitness equipment lined the far wall of the room.
“I take back what I said about wanting to relax,” Imara proclaimed. “This is gonna be awesome.”
Approaching the weapons station, Gemma glanced down at what she was wearing. This time, her black outfit was skin-tight and glistening like metal, but it was weightless and fluidly moved with her.
She squinted, running her fingers along the soft fabric. It was similar to the cast that had been on her arm. What in the blazes is this made of?
“Basaltweave,” Christian said, as if reading her thoughts. He reached around her to grab a pair of throwing knives. “Hard as metal but easy to fight in. Incredibly expensive, though, which is why you won’t see many people wearing the full suits.”
Gemma turned to ask how he knew all that information, and her cheeks burned. His suit was as tight on him as it was on her. Every one of his muscles was on full display. He was trim and athletic, carved from the very stone they mined on Reva.
She redirected her gaze before he caught her gawking. Swallowing, she grabbed one of the rifles along with an extra box of ammunition. The first time she’d ever held a firearm was in the sim against the Dissent. If she wanted to pass her Trials, she needed to learn how to use it.
“I can teach you to shoot, if you want,” Christian said.
Gemma’s stomach flipped. In that outfit? That was a precursor to not learning how to shoot.
But there was no better marksman in the room. Learning from him would be the wisest choice.
She nodded, avoiding eye contact. “I’d like that. Thanks.”
In a blink, a gun range appeared out of nowhere. Colton swore as it materialized around where he stood.
The android must be listening, anticipating their needs based on conversations or body language. Could Rami also see everything they were doing?
Gemma shuddered.
Christian led her to one of the lanes in the gun range and reminded her how to load the magazine and set a round in the chamber.
“Put this part against your shoulder like this”—he maneuvered the butt of the gun into place against her shoulder—“and put your left hand here.” He kept his hand over hers as he wrapped her fingers around the hand guard.
Christian reached around her to place her right hand on the grip, the muscles of his chest taut against Gemma’s back.
Her heartbeat quickened. This was the closest she’d ever been to a man, let alone one that looked like him. Who’d made her feel so safe in their last test, and had complimented her, and had held her hands so firmly that she didn’t falter . . .
She changed her mind—this wasn’t a good idea after all. Training with him was going to be torturous.
“Good,” he said. “Now, lift it until the sight is lined up with your target. Let’s pick its head. It’s all right if you need to tip yours a bit to see better.”
She followed his instruction, her breath tight in her chest. From him or the anticipation of the gunshot, she didn’t know.
His arms were still around her, and his deep voice rumbled against her spine. “Now, squeeze the trigger. Don’t push too hard, or your gun will kick more. Be gentle. Breathe in—good. Fire as you breathe out.”
Gemma slowly released the air from her lungs and pressed the firing mechanism.
The bullet went straight between the target’s eyes.
“Nice.” She could almost hear Christian smile. “Now, try without me.”
When he stepped away, she didn’t know if she was happy he’d let go of her or not.
The target shimmered, and the bullet hole disappeared. The android again was anticipating her needs.
Gemma swallowed and lined up her shot, aiming for the target’s forehead. She breathed in deeply and squeezed the trigger.
Her bullet shot off to the right as the gun kicked, missing the target completely.
Her nostrils flared. If she’d wanted to look like an inept fool, she’d definitely succeeded. She bit her bottom lip, avoiding Christian’s stare, her cheeks warm.
“Not bad but be gentler with the trigger. And remember to breathe out when you shoot. Try again,” he encouraged.
She ground her teeth. “How did you get to be so good at this? We don’t even have a range in Perileos.”
“We do, actually. You just need to know where to look.” He spoke so quietly against her ear that chills ran down her spine. He too must’ve realized the android was listening.
Gemma turned her head, and Christian’s expression told her everything she needed to know.
She’d heard rumors of a Falaichte district, far away from the prying eyes of the Systems’ clunky police robots. But it had always been, to her, a rumor. Was he saying it was real? Is that where he’d gotten all his “tutoring?”
Christian nodded toward the target. “Try again.”
Gemma’s pulse pounded wildly, but she obeyed, lining up her shot. This time, when she pulled the trigger, the bullet went through the target’s chest.
Christian smiled out of the corner of her eye. “Not bad, Proctor. Keep practicing until you don’t have to think about what you’re doing, and you might get better than me.”
She grinned softly, her cheeks burning.
“Gather ‘round, everyone!” Hawk shouted from near the boxing ring. “It’s time for a showdown between the members of Team Gallowood.”
“Team Gallowood?” Imara laughed. “You must have a really big knob to think we’d go along with that.”
He glared at Imara. “Come on. Let’s have some fun.” He waved them over.
Gemma sighed, handing her rifle to Christian for him to unload before making her way to the boxing ring.
Her knees weakened the closer she got. Growing up, she’d always assumed she’d take over the infirmary; she never intended to participate in the Trials. Then after Nadine’s murder, Gemma worked sixty hours in the mines every week, which left her physically exhausted and sore.
So, in her off hours, she’d spent more time devouring knowledge and preparing her mind, teaching herself things she never would’ve thought she’d need to know—like how to use a compass. She never once thought to gain experience in a boxing ring.
This was going to be humiliating.
Maybe it is good you’re part of a team.
“I propose a tournament of sorts,” Hawk explained. “Why just practice when you can have fun doing it? You two want to start?” Hawk directed his question at Christian and Colton.
“And then what?” Colton drawled. “One of the girls fights me or Christian?”
“Who says I wouldn’t kick your ass?” Imara snarked, her arms crossing over her chest.
Colton raised an eyebrow at her.
“They’re going to have to fight men in these Trials.” Hawk shrugged. “They might as well learn against us since we’re not trying to kill them.”
“Fine,” Christian said. “But I’m going last.”
“Why? ‘Cause you’re too gentlemanly to fight a girl?” Colton mocked.
“No, because he’s been winning fights since he was sixteen,” Imara said.