with your thumb. When you press the trigger, press it like you mean it, and make sure your hand is below this part here. This is the slide, and it’s going to snap back when the gun is fired to eject the empty case. It’ll automatically reload a new cartridge. You’re going to feel a kickback, and it’s going to be loud. There are seventeen rounds in this.”
“What if I drop it?”
“Pick it back up. The gun has safety features to prevent accidental misfiring.”
“Saint, I can’t do this…”
Green smoke flowed out from the vent, and Ryden turned to Fitz. He looked like a soldier, just like Saint. The vests fit them like they were tailored for their muscular bodies, their postures without flaw as they stood tall, shoulders back, stance confident. Fitz caught a glimpse of himself in the floor-length mirror attached to one of the lockers. He looked like he was playing dress-up, the fuzzy sleeves of his green cashmere sweater a ridiculous contrast to the black tactical gear, his swooping bangs flattened against the side of his face by the helmet.
“I look like SWAT Barbie,” Fitz muttered.
The equipment was heavy, the gun in his hand foreign and terrifying, but as the room started to fill with smoke, Fitz realized he had no choice. If he wanted to live through this, he was going to have to try his damned hardest. All he had to do was avoid Emmett until the guys arrived. He wasn’t alone.
Saint and Ryden both took position in front of him. Looking over his shoulder, Saint winked at him. “We’re going to get through this. Whatever happens, you get to an exit.”
“But—”
“You get to an exit,” Ryden ordered, his tone brooking no argument.
Fitz nodded. “Okay.” He took a deep breath and readied himself. In front of him, Saint and Ryden crouched low, and Fitz followed their lead.
“Run for cover,” Saint whispered, reaching for the door handle.
“Wait. Do I close one eye?”
Ryden frowned. “What?”
“To shoot.”
“See the clock?”
Fitz followed Ryden’s gaze to the clock across the room. “Yes.”
Hold your arms out and make a triangle shape with your fingers.”
Fitz did as he was told.
“Now close your left eye. Is it still in the middle?”
“Yes.”
“Open it and close your right eye. Did the clock move?”
“Yes.”
“You’re right-eye dominant, so when you fire, close your left eye.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Here we go.” Saint threw the door open, and they hurried out, Fitz behind Saint as they ran for the doorway that led to the training area. They’d almost made it when Ryden shouted.
“Bomb!”
One second Fitz was running, the next his feet were off the ground as a blast propelled him through the air. He landed on his stomach on one of the mats, a heavy weight dropping onto him and knocking the wind out of him. The weight got heavier as debris fell onto whoever was on top of him. Fitz covered his head on instinct, his eyes shut tight as his ears rang and the world seemed to come down around him. Thick smoke and dust filled the room, making it nearly impossible to see. Gasping and coughing, Fitz struggled to get air into his lungs. He pushed against the floor, teeth clenched as he carefully tried to roll off whoever was on him.
“Saint? Ryden?” His voice came out hoarse.
“Get up slowly or I’ll put a bullet in him.”
Fitz froze. He put one hand up, the other on the floor. His fingers touched something hard, and he lifted his gaze to Emmett, who wore a gas mask on his face and stood less than a foot away, a gun aimed at the man on top of Fitz.
“Come on. Get up.”
“Okay. Okay.” Fitz shoved his gun underneath his vest as he crawled out from under… He turned his head. Ryden. He was out cold, slabs of ceiling and wall on him and around him. “Can I just check to see if he’s breathing?”
“Who the fuck cares?”
“I care,” Fitz spat out. If Emmett hadn’t shot him already, it meant he had different plans for Fitz and didn’t intend to kill him just yet. At least he hoped that was the case.
“Fine. Hurry up. The police and SWAT are already here.”
Fitz checked Ryden’s breathing and let out a sigh of relief. At least he was breathing normally. He glanced around and spotted Saint on his stomach a few feet away.
“He’s alive,” Emmett said with a sigh. “Move it.”
Fitz put his hands up and slowly stood to face Emmett.
“Take the helmet and vest off. If