The world stopped turning the minute Ally emerged from the therapist’s office and I took sight of her swollen eyes. The need to protect consumed me and I opened my arms just in time to catch her as she ran to me. Wrapped in my tight embrace, she clung to me as relief swam through my veins.

Fearing the Ally I was getting to know would disappear, I lead her out of the hospital and straight for the car. I hated seeing her so broken, especially after getting a glimpse of who she was beneath all the pain. I tried to whisper words of comfort but I wasn’t sure she heard any of them.

Closed off from me, from the world, Ally remained silent the entire ride to Jersey. I knew better than to press her so I let her be. In my own silence I plotted all the ways I was going to make that cocksucker, Yankovich, pay.

Fuck Stryker.

Fuck Cobra.

Fuck Jack too.

Fuck everyone.

That motherfucker was mine.

In a perfect world, we’d catch that cocksucker and torture him until he begged for mercy. First, I’d cut his cock off and shove it down his throat. Then I’d nail him backward to a cross and shove the bluntest object I could find up his ass. I’d do it repeatedly too, until he bled out and squealed like a pig. Then I’d carry that cross straight to Ally because there isn’t anyone better suited to deliver that motherfucker to Satan than her.

As the thought plays out in my mind, I realize how badly I want to do that for her. How much I want to give her the opportunity to get revenge on the years lost. Others might tell her the perfect revenge is moving on, but I know the gratification that comes with pulling the trigger. I know the symphony of peace it creates in your soul to know you ultimately won.

If that’s something she wants, I can do that for her.

I will do that for her.

I’ll deliver Yankovich to her and then I’ll hand her the gun. In the end it will be her choice as to whether or not she pulls the trigger. For once she’ll be the one with the power. She’ll be the one delivering fate to the man who squashed her dreams. She’ll be his judge and his jury.

She’ll be God.

But first, she’s got to learn how to shoot.

She’s got to be comfortable holding a gun and she’s got to be confident when her fingers are around the trigger.

Pulling into Pop’s lot, I glance over at her and watch as she stares out the window, taking in the oversized warehouse. Parking in front of the building, I kill the engine on the car.

“Do you still want to do this?” I ask, stretching my arm out to rest on the back of her seat. Peeling her eyes away from the range, she turns to me for the first time since we left the doctor’s office and I take in her face. I notice the tears have dried and the worn expression that’s been missing is restored to her pretty features. I want my Ally back. The girl who inquisitively asks a million questions, the girl who is fearless to try new things and decide what she likes and dislikes. I want the smartass with the incredible smile. I want her back.

Quietly the sad version nods back at me.

“Okay,” I say, reaching for the door. As I climb out and make my way around the front of the truck, Ally slips out herself, slamming the door behind her. I pause, leaning against the hood of the car as she squares her shoulders back and stares up at the sign.

The front door swings open and an old man saunters out. Wearing a flannel shirt, jeans that are probably as old as him and a fedora, Pops pulls the cigar from his mouth and points it at me.

“Well, well, look what the wind blew in,” he drawls. “I wasn’t expecting to see Satan’s sharpest shooter today,” he adds, shoving the cigar between his lips. 

“How you doing, Pops?”

“You got a light?” he asks, ignoring my question as he pats down his jeans in search of a lighter. “Never mind, I got it,” he corrects, pulling a barbeque torch from his back pocket.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch Ally as she lifts a hand to her mouth. Covering the smallest hint of a smile she watches Pops light the tip of the cigar and shove the big ass lighter into his front pocket.

“So, what the fuck do you want?” the grumpy old man asks as he puffs on his cigar. “Parrish only sends me his guys when he’s looking to wage war and take my guns.”

Turning my attention back to him, I shake my head and step closer to Ally.

“Not here on Jack’s orders today, Pops.”

“Well, you sure as hell didn’t drive your ass all the way up here to the boonies to look at my handsome face.”

“Got me there,” I reply with a laugh before turning to Ally. “This here is Cobra’s sister, Ally.”

“Shit, yeah, I heard something about that,” he says, taking a sweeping glance over Ally. “Hi there, sweetheart, welcome,” he greets, leaning forward to extend a hand to her.

Ally forces a smile as she takes his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” she answers.

“Ally wants to learn how to shoot,” I explain.

Pops’ bushy gray eyebrows shoot up, disappearing under the rim of his hat.

“Well, I’ll be damned, it’s been a damn long time since we had a woman up in these parts,” he says, settling back against the Adirondack chair. “You ever hold a gun?”

“No,” she admits.

He nods in understanding before shooting me a look.

“Start her off small, something that will fit nicely in her hands,” he instructs, flicking the ashes from his cigar onto his lap. “Ah, shit,” he mutters, blowing the ashes off his body.

“Will do,” I say as I turn to Ally.

My natural instinct is to place a hand on the small of her back and lead her inside but somehow, someway, I stop myself. Consciously aware of her state of mind, I don’t want to do anything that might set her off.

“This way,” I say, clearing my throat.

She glances over her shoulder and I jut my chin toward the door. Following her inside, I step around the front counter as she takes everything in and grab two pairs of noise reducing ear muffs. Shoving them under my arm, I grab the keys to the vault and lead Ally down the hall to where the guns are stored.

Once inside the vault, Ally gasps as she takes in the massive amount of firearm lining the walls.

“Holy shit,” she mutters, stepping further into the room. I watch as her eyes dart from the AK-57’s to the automatic shotguns. “This place is like the Target of firearms,” she comments, turning around to face me. “Do you know how to use all of these?”

Eyeing the selection, I nod.

“Just about every single one,” I admit.

“That’s nuts,” she says. “Some of these things are almost as big as me.” She pauses and glances over her shoulder curiously. “Is this legal?”

Crossing my arms against my chest, I think about the question. If she’s asking if shooting here is legal, it’s not. A couple of years ago, this place got shot up, ironic if you ask me, but not surprising since every fucked up thing imaginable seems to happen to the Satan’s Knights. Anyway, it was legit business back then and Pops took it seriously. Every gun was registered, the proper permits hung on the walls and everyone signed waivers and shit. Now, he doesn’t give a fuck and this place is more or less a place for him and Jack to deal guns.

“Nope,” I answer, turning my attention back to her. She draws her lip between her teeth and I crook my finger. “C’mere,” I coax as I turn around and open the cabinet filled with smaller guns. Stepping next to me, Ally’s eyes drift over the variety of guns.

“These are so small compared to the others,” she points out.

“Small but powerful,” I tell her as I stare at her. “Kinda like you.”

She lifts her gaze to mine and I wink at her. Reaching across her, I grab a 9mm from the cabinet and hand it to her. 

“See how this one feels,” I offer. “If it’s too heavy, we’ll find you something a little smaller.”

Diverting her eyes between mine and the gun in my hand she hesitantly takes it from me. Her eyes go wide with wonder as she studies the gun and gets familiar with the feel of it.

“Here, like this,” I say, helping her find the trigger. “Now hold it up and aim straight ahead,” I instruct.

Following directions, she extends her arm straight ahead.

“How does it feel?”

“Strange,” she admits.

Furrowing my eyebrows, I bend my knees so we’re eye level.

“Strange how? Like it’s uncomfortable—”

“Strange because it feels right,” she interrupts. “Almost as if it was made to fit my hand,” she continues to explain.

I straighten up and take a step back, letting my eyes sweep over her and Jesus, fuck, if there was ever a woman who looked as if she was meant to hold a gun, it was Ally. Her stance needed work and I’ll have to teach her the importance of breathing and trigger control, but her grip was fucking perfect.

She was fucking perfect.

Taking the gun from her hand, I pocket it and lead her out of the vault. Grabbing a pair of noise reducing ear muffs and a pair of plugs we make our way to the shooting line. I set everything on the table next to us and reel in the target.

Feeling Ally’s eyes on me, I replace the previous paper target with a fresh one and send it back down the line. She takes the old one from my hand and studies the gunshots before lifting it to me.

“Where’s the best place to aim?” she asks.

“Don’t worry about where to aim,” I tell her as I pull out the clip and load the gun. “You just shoot. Today is about getting familiar with a gun and learning to take control. It is about understanding the power you have in your hand, it’s feeling it. The release, the pressure…everything. First, I’m going to show you how to stand and hold the gun. It’s important your feet are shoulder width apart and your back is straight. Once you pull the trigger, the impact will knock you back, but I’ll be right behind you. It’s going to be loud, really fucking loud so you need to wear both the ear plugs and the muffs,” I pause, watching her throat as she swallows. “Are you all right?”

“I’m anxious,” she whispers. “You’ll be right behind me, right? That’s what you said?”

“Yes,” I assure her, placing the gun on the table. “I’ve got your back,” I promise.

She nods, drawing out a breath before she gives me a small smile.

“Okay, let’s do this,” she murmurs.

Reaching up, I tuck her hair behind her ears and hand her the plugs. She fits them to her ears before I grab the ear muffs. Worried that putting them on her will be a trigger like the helmet, I hesitantly hand them over to her and instruct her to fit them to her head. Once I know she’s not affected by them, I help her adjust them so they cover her ears.

Next, I gently lay my hands on her shoulders and internally struggle with myself not to let my hands roam.

Touching her makes me think about the kisses I’ve tried so hard to block from my mind and entices an onslaught of thoughts; thoughts I won’t allow myself to think when I’m around her. Mainly because I don’t trust myself not to throw her up against a wall and fuck her into next week. Somewhere, somehow the lines blurred and I started seeing Ally as more than just a responsibility, more than just a girl who needed my help. Beneath the rough exterior of a lonely girl filled with devastation is a girl who can tear down the whole world with her fire. To everyone else she’s just the girl we rescued, someone everyone pities, but to me she’s a flame. A flame that burns so bright that if you stare too long you’ll burn with her. You’ll think she’s your last chance to create beautiful fire and dive right in, praying your spark is half as powerful as hers.

You’ll forget you’re not what she needs.

Trust me, I know.

I also know I’m not good for her; that I never will be. I’m fully aware I’m fucked but that doesn’t mean I won’t try. If all I have is this short time then I’m using my last match to see her through to the end of that tunnel, because if nothing else, she deserves to live, and by live I mean wildly without abandonment.

Freely.

Shaking my thoughts from my head, I pull myself back into the moment and let my hands skim down her arms, positioning them so they are extended straight in front of her.

“Just like that,” I say loud enough for her to hear me despite the protection covering her ears. Letting my hands fall to her sides, my eyes drift downward and I inspect her stance. Laying my hand on the small of her back, I apply a little pressure.

“Square your shoulders back and widen your stance. Remember, your feet should be shoulder width apart.”

Licking her lips, she keeps her eyes on the target and her arms perfectly straight before she spreads her legs further apart.

“Good,” I tell her. Positioning myself behind her, I put enough space between us so that she can feel my presence but not enough that we touch. “Whenever you’re ready,” I probe.

Being the only two people in the range, the silence is deafening and as the minutes pass I begin to wonder if she’s changed her mind.

Then it happens.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

She creates a fire.

Deep within herself.

A fire only I can see.

Spreading my arms wide, I step forward as the power of pulling the trigger slams into her and she falls back against me. With one hand wrapped tightly around her, I gently coax the gun from her trembling hand and draw it down, tucking it into the back of my jeans. Her hand falls limply to her side and I wrap my other arm around her. Her body shakes against mine and when I glance down I see a lone tear fall from the corner of her eye. Before I can turn her around and console her she knocks me on my ass.

Ally smiles.

Through the tears.

Through the pain.

Through the darkness, she smiles.

She gives me her fire.

Beautiful fucking fire.

Right here in my arms.