Enzo shakes his head as he stops walking a few feet away.
“You aren’t protecting her by teaching her how to shoot. You’re only giving her false hope that she actually has a chance at winning,” Enzo says.
I frown. Any pleasant feelings from earlier disappear with his words. I embody rage, and without thinking I aim the gun in Enzo’s direction, but instead of aiming for his heart like Langston taught me, I aim for just off his shoulder.
Enzo looks at me smugly, and I stare back at him.
He doesn’t reach for his own gun, even though I know he has one on him. He always does anytime he leaves his bedroom. Langston and Zeke don’t try to stop me.
I squeeze the trigger, aiming for a spot on the deck behind him, knowing if I miss and hit him, the worst damage I’ll do is to his shoulder. I won’t come close to killing him.
As I planned the bullet hits the deck behind Enzo.
The world stops, and I wait for Enzo’s retribution.
He smirks. “You missed.”
My own smug expression drops from my face. Enzo wanted me to shoot him. Maybe I should have, that might make whatever happens tomorrow a more fair fight.
He turns and walks back to the deck, not worried at all I might shoot him in the back.
“Oh, and you might want to teach her how to drive since she can’t do that either.”
I glare in his direction and consider firing again, but I don’t trust myself with a moving target. I could miss and kill him. Which right now wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Except then I’d become Black, and I’m not sure I’m ready or willing to take the job.
I don’t want to rule an empire. I don’t want to spend my days keeping people in line with my gun.
I look out at the ocean. Even if it gives me such beauty and luxury. Giving me a life of ease.
I don’t want it. I turn back and see Enzo slip into the house. Especially if it turns me into a grumpy, unfeeling, lonely man like Enzo.
But I can’t let his comments go unchecked. I need to feel rage tomorrow; I will need adrenaline pumping through my veins to aid me in my quest. But I don’t need all out anger.
Anger will only serve as a distraction.
I start stomping toward the house when Langston calls, “Gun, Kai.”
He holds out his hand as if waiting for me to relinquish it to him.
His eyes read serious. He may like me, but he won’t let me hurt his boss or closest friend.
I put on the safety, and then toss the gun in his direction. He catches it with ease.
“Thanks for the lessons.”
Both men nod.
“But I have other business to attend to.” I stomp into the house, intent on giving Enzo a piece of my mind. Because I will not let him win before the games have even started—not anymore.
18
Enzo
Kai’s a good shot.
And it pisses me off. Not that she’s amazing at everything she does, as I expect her to be, but because no one ever helped her unlock her potential. I don’t care that she’s a girl, if she had been properly trained she would have been a formidable opponent. But as she is now, I’ll destroy her.
For the longest time, I hoped that my opponent would be the stronger one. That it would be clear they were the better man, the one worthy of becoming Black. But then I faced reality. No one would ever be stronger than me; my father ensured that. So I became Black. For three years I’ve done the job. I lined my pockets with more money. Filled my bed with the sexiest of women. Hired the most dangerous of men.