Page 127 of Scarred Angel

That’s exactly what I need right now.

The rifle bucks against my shoulder, and I keep my finger on the trigger until every round is downrange and the mag clicks empty. The target is nothing but shredded paper and smoke. I drop the it onto the table, rip off my ear pro and goggles, my chest heaving.

But it’s not enough.

The adrenaline burns, but the weight in my chest won’t lift. The anger, the helplessness. The fucking need todosomething, to kill this feeling before it consumes me.

Someone’s out there, searching, sniffing around my family. Rogue members of Ares, or hell, maybe they’re in on it too. But missing work today wasn’t an option. I refuse to hide and live my life looking over my shoulder.

Fuck that.

I slam a fresh magazine into the rifle; my gaze fixed on the ruined paper downrange while my mind spirals a mile a minute.

And then there’s Maksim.

I try to convince myself I was ready for his silence, that I didn’t need him to say it back. But I'm fooling myself. Because it stung. It still does. I would have given anything to hear him say he loves me just as fiercely.

“Hey.”

Remi’s hand lands on my arm, a gesture so familiar it drags me straight back to the day of my accident, when I was pissed and pumped Cole’s face with lead.

“I’m not trying to ruin your fun, but you’re not going to be able to use that arm tomorrow.”

She takes the weapon from me, and I don’t fight her for it.

“I know it’s been a shit few days,” she goes on, clicking the safety into place, “and I’m all for feminine rage and target therapy, but right now you look stressed out, not relieved.”

Before I can argue, her other hand latches onto mine.

“Come on,” she says, her tone gentler now. “Let’s get out of here for a bit.”

We secure the gun, leave one of the other employees in charge, and we’re in Remi’s Demon just minutes later.

“Where are you taking me?”

“A little surprise.” She downshifts and flicks her hair over her shoulder. “But first, besides all this secret-organization apocalypse bullshit, what’s got you trying to put a hole through the wall?”

It doesn’t surprise me that she knows there’s more to my aggravation than the very real possibility that we could all become targets.

I slump into the seat. “I told him. Told Maksim I love him.”

She’s silent for several moments. “Well,” she says finally, “this is news to me, too.”

I whip toward her, guilt crashing into me the moment it hits that I never told her. My other half in chaos, the one person who knows me more than anyone.

“Remi…Fuck, I’m so sorry. Things have moved kind of fast and?—”

She grimaces like I just insulted her driving skills. “Valentina. Babe. Do you seriously think I’m upset you didn’t tell me immediately? Plus, it’s not exactly breaking news. Every time I see you, you’re practically humping his leg.”

I bark a laugh. “I am not!”

“You could’ve tattooed his name on your ass first, and I’d still be like ‘ugh, I knew it.’”

Our laughter fills the cabin until it slowly fades, and the mood shifts.

“So you told him, huh?”

I nod, my throat tight. “Yeah.”