Chapter 2

The house on the west side was far from the compound.

Before dawn the next morning, I was already on my feet, heading back to the villa to make Iris's breakfast.

The snow had stopped. The cold hadn't.

I barely made it through the kitchen door before Damian's men grabbed me. Bound my hands. Shoved a gag in my mouth. Threw me into the back of an armored SUV.

When they pulled me out, I was on my knees in the middle of a private shooting range.

Oak trees stripped bare. Targets lined up at fifty yards.

And at the far end — Damian, with his arm around Iris, whispering something in her ear.

He looked at me like I was livestock.

"Go stand over there." He pointed at the target board.

My head snapped up. "She's never touched a gun in her life. I'll die."

Iris's face crumpled. She pressed herself into Damian's chest. "Damian, Selene's right. I'm so useless. Maybe I shouldn't—"

"Don't say that." He kissed her temple. "You'll be a marksman. I promise."

Then, over the crown of her head, without looking up — "What the fuck are you waiting for? Since when do you ignore my orders?"

I didn't move.

My old wounds throbbed under the bandages. Every bullet I'd ever taken for him burned fresh.

He saw me shaking. Stepped away from Iris. Walked across the gravel. Took my jaw in his hand.

"If you don't go, I'll put Luna out there instead." His voice dropped.

"She owes me a life too."

He meant it.

If I refused again, my ten-year-old sister would be standing in front of that board.

I closed my eyes. Swallowed the bile in my throat.

"She's small. I'm bigger. Miss Vale will have more fun with me."

Damian's grip loosened. "Good girl."

He turned back to Iris. Showed her how to load the revolver.

She giggled, nervous. "What if I miss, baby? Would you be mad at me?"

He spun the chamber. One bullet at a time.

"Relax. She's eaten hundreds of rounds for me — a couple from you? She won't even flinch."

The first bullet tore through my knee.

I collapsed onto the frozen dirt. Blood pulsed out of my leg in slow, warm thuds, soaking through the wool of my coat.

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard her.

Laughing.

Damian didn't even blink. "Again."

The second shot went into my left shoulder.

I hit the ground face-first. Blood soaked through my white dress.

His men exchanged looks.

No one moved.

"Get her up," Damian said. Flat. Bored.

Two soldiers hauled me to my feet. My legs barely held.

Third shot. Left abdomen. I coughed blood onto the snow.

Fourth. Right arm.

Iris raised the revolver for the fifth time. Grinning now. Teeth white. Eyes bright.

"Enough." Damian took the gun from her hand.

A flicker of jealousy crossed her face. She stomped her foot. "But I was just getting good at it!"

He hesitated.

Then he glanced at one of his men. "Bring Luna."

"No—" I tried to scream, but the blood in my throat turned it into a gurgle.

"She's only ten. She's still sick. Please—"

Damian's face flickered.

Then he turned away.

"She'll be fine. Iris needs more practice."

I watched through a blur of tears as two soldiers dragged my sister onto the range.

They had her by the elbows — the same way they'd held me. Her bare feet didn't touch the ground between them.

She was so small. Her hair was still wet from the fever.

She screamed my name.

"Selene! Please!"

"Selene! Help me—"

The revolver fired.

Her voice stopped.