𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝟏𝟖+

21

As the days go by, I find myself sinking deeper and deeper into bitterness. It's not just the constant tension with Luis, the way I have to tiptoe around him like he's a landmine waiting to detonate.

It's the fact that Damien and I never got to celebrate our engagement the way we should have...we got bullets and blood, instead.

It's not fair. It's not right. And as petty and selfish as it might be, I can't help but mourn the loss of that perfect moment.

I'm lost in thought when Damien finds me, curled up on the couch in the living room of the guest house. He takes one look at me and sinks down beside me, pulling me into his arms.

"Talk to me, baby," he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple in a soft kiss. "What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?"

I lean into his embrace, breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne. "I hate that we didn't get to celebrate our engagement the way we were supposed to."

I swallow hard, blinking back the sudden tears. "I wanted it to be perfect, you know? But instead..."

Damien's arms tighten around me,"I know, baby."

With a deep breath...I pull back from Damien's embrace, my eyes locking with his.

"I want you to teach me how to shoot a gun," I say, my voice steady, despite the way my heart pounds in my chest. "I don't ever want to feel helpless again."

Damien leans forward, capturing my lips in a kiss that steals the breath from my lungs. "Hell yeah," he growls against my mouth, his hands already roaming over my body.

︻デ═一

We head outside and Damien sets up a makeshift shooting range, lining up empty beer bottles on a fallen log at the edge of the property. Then he turns to me, and places the gun in my hand.

"Alright, Cat. First things first, always treat a gun like it's loaded, even if you know it's not. Never point it at anything you don't intend to shoot. Keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to fire."

I nod, my heart racing as I feel the weight of the weapon in my hand. It's heavier than I expected.

Damien positions himself behind me, his chest pressed to my back as he adjusts my grip, his fingers molding mine into the correct position. "Okay, now keep your feet shoulder-width apart. Bring your other hand up to support the base. Aim down the sights, focus on your target."

I do as he says, my breathing shallow as I line up the shot. The bottle seems impossibly far away.

"Whenever you're ready," Damien murmurs, "Squeeze the trigger, don't pull it. Let the shot surprise you."

I take a deep breath, holding it for a second before slowly exhaling. And then, with a twitch of my finger, the gun jumps to life, the crack of the shot echoing through the desert.

I jump, startled by the noise and the recoil, my arms jerking up with the force of it. When I look at the log, the bottle is still standing.

"Fuck," I laugh. "I missed."

Damien chuckles, pressing a kiss to my temple as he gently lowers my arms. "That's okay, baby. It takes practice."

He steps back, gesturing for me to try again. "Remember, don't anticipate the shot. Let it happen naturally."

I nod, squaring my shoulders as I line up once more. This time, when I pull the trigger, I look out at the log...the bottle is gone.

I take a deep breath, getting into position to shoot again. With every shot, glass explodes and then sparkles in the light, the sound of each hit giving me a rush.