Page 46 of The First Spark (Dynasty of Fire #1)

Zane slid the barrel of his pulser back into place, setting it down on the table and tossing the cleaning rag on a stool.

A gentle breeze brushed past as he scowled at his chrono.

She was now four minutes late. Slouching against a wooden beam, he stared at the grassy field he’d staged as a shooting range.

It was the perfect day for target practice.

Bright skies, not a cloud to be seen. All fake, of course; the sun was absent too, and occasionally, the distant patter of rain slipped through the sound modifiers.

Five minutes turned into six.

As rushed footsteps scuffled behind him, Zane scowled. “Can’t read a chrono?”

Kalie glared at him. Her cheeks were red, and she was out of breath, as if she’d been running. Her white tank top was transparent in the light, and her tight leggings—damn, she was hot.

“Sorry I’m late,” she panted, slumping against the wooden stand.

“It’s target practice. You don’t need to waste time on makeup.” Even if he was rather enjoying the sight of her makeup. Her curled hair, her form-fitting clothes… For someone who could be so annoying, she was unfairly attractive.

“It’s not for you,” she snapped, crossing her arms, but the flush coloring her cheeks deepened. “Sadini went into labor. I got sidetracked.”

Okay, so maybe she had a valid excuse. He tossed her a bottle of water, and she broke the seal. “If you’d rather be there?—”

“And sit there for hours, doing nothing? No, thanks. Theron’s planning to kick everyone out anyway.

” She gulped down water, set the bottle on the stand, and drew in a deep breath.

“Mother’s frantic, Selene is sulking. Father’s nowhere to be found, but it’s not like he was there when any of us were born… Anyway. Target practice?”

Zane nodded. “Have you ever shot before?”

“Basic self-defense.”

“Judging by what I’ve seen so far, the lessons clearly didn’t stick.”

“Someone’s rude today. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” Kalie arched her eyebrows. “Or was the other side of the bed taken?”

Zane clenched his teeth. It hadn’t been, even though the maids that had been sent to help him bathe were very hot and very available. He’d sent them away, a decision he was profoundly regretting. No matter what he did, Kalie would still think he was worthless, so what was the point in playing nice?

“Jealous?” he taunted.

“You wish. Let me guess—the maid from dinner?”

“The one that’s screwing your father?” Zane scoffed. “Pass.”

Kalie stilled, and as her eyes swept to the floor, he gritted his teeth. Noted. Her father and his affairs were a touchy subject.

“Sorry—”

“If you’re going to be this rude,” she snapped, turning away from him, “I’ll hire a private trainer instead.”

“No, I… Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.

” She was late, and needling her was always fun, but for better or worse, he was stuck with her now.

He couldn’t lash out at her every time nightmares kept him up.

And she’d sat with him that night on the ship—she’d been kind and understanding, she’d tried to spare him from embarrassment.

Za ne sighed. “We’ll go over the basics first, and once you feel comfortable, we’ll practice with the targets. ”

Kalie eyed the closest target. “I can hit that.”

“Yeah?” Zane smirked as he held out the pulser, pointing the barrel at the ground. “You want to give it a shot?”

She hesitated, then curled her fingers around the grip. Resting her finger on the trigger, she swung the pulser towards the target.

“Careful!” Zane lunged forward, putting his hand on the slide to stop her from firing.

“Take your finger off the trigger. There you go. Rest it on the slide. Never, never put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to shoot.

If you trip, or if you sneeze… not a good idea.

And be careful where you’re pointing that barrel.

You could’ve shot me when you swung that thing. ”

Frowning, Kalie tilted the pulser. “The safety’s on.”

“And if it wasn’t?” Zane pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright. Slowly , switch the safety off and aim at the target.”

The safety clicked, and Kalie lined up with the target. Her grip was weak, and her stance was awful. Zane bit his tongue. Better to let her fire once and miss, so she’d actually listen. She squinted—a mistake—and squeezed the trigger.

The recoil knocked her back. The ring of blue light soared above the target, vanishing into the range.

“You set it to stun?”

“If you screw up, I don’t want you to kill us.”

Scowling, Kalie lined up again. Her muscles were stiff, another rookie mistake, and she leaned away from the weapon.

As she fired, the blast veered way to the left.

“Fine,” she huffed, glaring at him. “What am I doing wrong?”

What aren’t you doing wrong? he almost asked, but while it was fun to see her riled up, it wouldn’t be helpful. She needed to learn to defend herself.

Dropping his smirk, Zane stepped forward and motioned for the pulser. She flicked the safety on as he seized the grip.

“The key is to have your hand as high on the pulser as possible. If your hand is too low, the slide will recoil. That’s what causes your shots to go wild. ”

He modeled the grip and held it out to her, keeping the barrel pointed down at the cement slab. Kalie bit her lip, took the weapon, and braced her trigger finger on the slide.

“Tighter. You don’t want someone to rip it out of your hand.”

Her knuckles turned white on the grip. He adjusted her thumb, and a jolt shocked his hand. Kalie shivered but didn’t pull away, and as a flush colored her cheeks, her shallow breaths sounded in his ears.

Zane surveyed the grip. It would do.

She turned, and it dawned on him how close they were.

Blood rushed to his face, and he turned. “We should fix your stance.”

“My stance?” she echoed, smiling wryly.

He let go of her hand and modeled a proper stance beside her. Her brows creased as she tried to copy it.

“Feet shoulder-width apart. Bend your knees, don’t lock them.”

She shifted, but it looked like a parody of the stance. Screw it. They didn’t have all day.

Telegraphing the move in advance so she had time to stop him, Zane stepped behind her. She tensed, but didn’t protest. Reaching over her shoulders, he curled his hands around hers. Her fingers were clammy on the grip of the pulser.

“Loosen up a bit,” Zane murmured. “Straighten your arms. There you go.”

He leaned forward, keeping his arms wrapped around her, and she bent towards the pulser.

The scent of cherries wafted off her warm body.

He inhaled the intoxicating aroma, and all thoughts fled his mind except for how right this felt.

Her soft hands, her silky hair brushing his cheek, their bodies pressed together, their breaths fluttering in sync.

“Should I pull the trigger?”

“Not yet,” he whispered.

Kalie chuckled. “My father would have you beheaded if he saw this.”

Zane stepped back and forced himself to snort, but he wasn’t entirely sure she was joking. “Tell him to wait until after you learn to defend yourself. ”

She bit her lip, and her gaze flickered to the ground. He could’ve sworn the sparkle in her eyes dimmed.

A bird soared overhead, hooting and hollering, and a warm breeze ruffled her golden curls. With trees lining either side of the field and rocks jutting out between blades of grass, the range looked like Dali. But despite the sunlight and scenery, the air seemed heavy between them.

Kalie seemed to sense the weight in the air, too. She hadn’t looked at him since he stepped away.

Clearing his throat, he pointed at the target. “Line up the sights. Focus on the front. Take a deep breath in, and fire on the exhale.”

The tinny shriek of a pulser rang out. The shot missed the target.

Her chest rose, and as it fell, she tapped the trigger again.

The stunner struck the target’s outer ring.

As Zane grinned, Kalie gasped, pressing her hand to her chest. She twisted around to face him, and her lips curved into a stunned smile.

“Did you see?—”

Her holocomm beeped. She tugged out the chirping device, still beaming.

“That was good.” Zane stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I mean, you were nowhere near the bullseye…”

Kalie didn’t rise to the bait, and he trailed off as her brows pulled together. An article’s translucent projection appeared over the comm, rippling in the air. Her face whitened.

Frowning, Zane peered at the article—then his eyes widened. “What the hell?”

In bold letters, the headline read:

Titan Jailbreak! Escaped Terrorists on the Prowl!

The comm trembled in Kalie’s hand. Zane plucked it from her grip, and as he scanned the report, pressure crushed his lungs.

Fifty-five of Dali’s worst criminals had broken free from the moon’s prison.

That should’ve been impossible—until Iliana, no one had escaped Titan in centuries. But the article showed the faces of fifty-five serial killers, terrorists, and mass murderers, all alleged to have landed on Dali.

Among the escapees was a man with crazy hazel eyes and Mylis’s face: Landon Grant .

Kalie knocked on the door before she could stop herself.

Almost as soon as the thud rang out, she ripped away her fist and pressed it to her lips.

This was a mistake. A horrible mistake. She needed to walk away.

There were no guarantees he was awake, and there were certainly no guarantees that he was alone.

Her stomach threatened to revolt at the thought.

Walk away . But her breaths were coming harsh and fast, her heart was racing, her foot wouldn’t stop bouncing against the floor, and every time she closed her eyes, she saw bloody, lifeless faces.

Iliana had summoned legionnaires to recapture the escapees from Titan. And what they’d done…

The nightmare was burned into her memory.