“Let me take care of the wound. It’s the least I can do after being such a bitch to you.”
I watch her, not trusting the sudden friendliness. Morgan gets a first aid kit, then comes to place it on the counter next to the sink.
She takes out a couple of anticeptic wipes and says, “This might sting a little.”
My eyes remain locked on her as she dabs against the side of my head.
“It doesn’t look like a deep cut.”
“That’s good.”
When she pulls back, she smiles at me. “I didn’t get all of the blood– ”
“What the fuck happened?” Chance suddenly snaps.
Morgan jumps, turning a worried gaze to him. “She had an altercation with her mother and bumped her head. I’m just helping her clean the wound.”
She actually sounds scared of Chance. I wonder if he said something to her.
“Thanks, Morgan. You can leave,” Chance says in a clipped tone.
She gives me a tentative smile. “I’ll see you around.”
I nod and watch as she quickly walks out of the bathroom.
Chance comes to me, and gripping my chin, he inspects the wound. “You kicked your mother’s ass?” His voice is a low rumble.
“Yeah.”
“Good girl.”
I grin up at him, which makes him smirk.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?”
“Rachel happened,” I grumble.
Chance takes another antiseptic wipe and starts to clean the wound again. “Talk to me, little one.”
“I was training when she came in and challenged me. She said if I caught her, I could call her mom, and if she caught me, she could beat me up.” I glance up at him, but I can’t read his expression. “I tackled her off the scaffold, and we fell. I must’ve knocked my head against the floor.”
“Are you okay, seeing your mom?” His tone is gentle, making the urge to cry rush to the surface.
I try to turn my face away, but he takes hold of my chin, not letting me. I grab his wrist and pull his fingers away from my face.
“It must’ve been hard,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
Darting forward, I wrap my arms around his neck, sucking in shuddering breaths to fight the tears back.
“I have you. You’re all that matters,” I say, my voice trembling.
His arms form steel bands around me. “That’s right, my little one.”
After a moment, Chance continues to clean the blood from my hair before putting on some of the stinking ointment.
“You knocked your head pretty hard. We’ll take it easy today. Grab some painkillers before we go.”
I quickly swallow two painkillers, then says, “I still want to train.”
He lets out a chuckle and nods toward the exit. “Let’s get going then.”
As we leave the bathroom, I ask, “How did it go with Quinlan?”
“Not bad. He understood why I killed Warrick.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Curious, I ask, “Who exactly is Quinlan?”
“He’s the head of the ward. Normally if a crime is committed, he’s the one who exiles the criminal to the rebels.”
“Oh.” I frown up at Chance. “Isn’t it dangerous to have one man make all the rules for the ward?”
“Quinlan has a council, but he’s fair.” We walk into the drill zone, then he adds, “He’s Idris’ older brother.”
My eyes widen. “I didn’t know that.”
“Now you do.” Chance points to where Raze is standing in the shooting range.
There’s a burst of relief in my chest when I see she’s okay. Walking to her, I give her a sideways hug. “I was worried about you.”
She shrugs. “Don’t be. I have a couple of people who look out for me.” She gives me a playful grin. “And I can kick ass.”
Chuckling, I gesture to the paper targets. “I need to learn how to shoot. Desperately.”
Chance holds a gun out to me. “Watch what Raze and I do, then we’ll work with you. Get used to the feel of the weapon in your hand.”
I take it, my fingers wrapping around the handle.
Chance and Raze take up position, and I take note of their stance, the way they hold the weapon, and how they respond to the force of the blast.
My ears are ringing by the time they’re done emptying a clip on the paper targets. They both shoot really well, the head of the target completely gone.
If they can do it, so can I.
Widening my stance, I bend my knees slightly, then line up the barrel of the gun with my sight.
“Take a deep breath,” Chance murmurs, and I inhale. “On the exhale, pull the trigger.”
I let the air out slowly, my finger curling around the trigger as I pull. The blast is loud, but I manage to stop myself from stumbling backward.
The bullet slams into the bottom of the target, making me scowl. “Well, that sucks.”
“Come on. Keep shooting. It will get better with practice,” Raze encourages me.
I keep firing at the target, and I’d say every fifth bullet hits the head.