Chapter 139: The Gun was Just Right
April took note of his words. Nat may be a psycho, but he was a psycho who had dealt with all sorts of trash and mongrel and lived to tell the tale.
She lifted her hand and casually brushed his thumb away from her face calmly with a blank face.
"You, Nat," she murmured, her eyes locking onto his for a brief, unreadable second. "You treat me strangely."
Without waiting for his response, she turned her face away, focusing entirely on the silver weapon in her grip.
Nat’s smirk only widened, his eyes dancing with dark amusement, but he chose to give no verbal reply either. He simply leaned back against the concrete partition, crossing his arms over his chest to watch his investment in action.
"Alright, give that silver beauty a try," he said, gesturing toward the fifty-yard track with a tilt of his chin. "And don’t worry about the bullets. I’ve got enough ammo to level a small country stored in the back."
April ejected the custom magazine of the Gabriel pistol to check the load. It was packed with pristine, high-grain brass rounds.
Sliding the magazine back into the magwell with a solid, satisfying clack, she racked the silver slide. The action was incredibly smooth, far lighter than the clunky handgun she had used before and she liked it.
She stepped up to the line, planting her feet firm on the concrete floor. She lowered her shoulders, letting her core absorb the gravity just as Nat had taught her, and raised the custom silver weapon.
The spring tension has been stripped by approximately twenty percent, She noted internally as her index finger rested on the trigger. The weight distribution centers exactly over the palm line.
She aligned the glowing iron sights directly with the center chest of the paper silhouette. This time, she didn’t just fire randomly. She took a tiny, sharp breath, held it, and squeezed.
BANG!
The muzzle flashed, a crisp, sharp bang echoing through the enclosed private lane. The recoil was remarkably manageable compared to the previous, a smooth kinetic push that traveled straight down her arm and dissipated into her shoulder without throwing her alignment off target.
April didn’t lower the gun. Her eyes tracked the distance. A fresh, clean hole was stamped directly inside the high-scoring chest ring of the paper target.
"See? What did I tell you, sweetheart?" Nat’s deep voice cut through the silence, his tone vibrating with a dark, triumphant satisfaction.
He uncrossed his arms, stepping closer to the edge of the glass barrier. "The gunsmiths did their job. That piece belongs in your hand."
April, stunned for a second at the clean hair, swallowed her excitement and didn’t break her stance.
Taking his earlier advice to heart, she immediately reset her focus. If she missed in a real combat scenario, she wouldn’t have the luxury of checking her body’s state. She had to eliminate the threat instantly.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
She fired three times in rapid succession. The silver slide cycled flawlessly, spitting hot, empty brass casings onto the floorboards with a series of light, metallic pings.
Three new holes clustered neatly within the center mass of the target, shredding the black ink of the silhouette.
"Much better," April murmured to herself, finally lowering the weapon to let the barrel cool.
The custom adjustments made a massive difference. With this weapon in her storage space, her personal defenses had just skyrocketed.
Nat walked over to the counter, a wild, manic grin plastered across his face as he looked down at the shredded paper in the distance. He tapped the carbon fiber case. "Keep the extra magazines and the cleaning kit. They’re already calibrated. I’ll have the rest of the ammo delivered to you as well."
"Alright," she said.
"Now, snap that case shut, sweetheart. We’re heading out." Nat said and April paused, her hand hovering over the silver slide.
"The training session is complete. I need to return to the Reed estate because... I’m busy."
Nat let out a low, rough chuckle, leaning his hip against the counter. "Nice try. I know your schedule is free today. If I let you go back now, you’re just going to spend the whole day playing that block game on your phone and stroking your new pet’s fur."
April blinked, a faint furrow forming between her brows. He wasn’t wrong, but she hadn’t actually told him she was free today—she had told Xavier.
This man’s information network was entirely too invasive that it made her believe he buffed her phone. Her eyes narrowed into something cold, and accusing as she looked up at him.
"Did you bug my phone?"
"Why would I do that?" Nat asked, throwing his hands up in a display of mock innocence that looked completely ridiculous on a man of his size.
"Then how do you know my schedule is free?"
"Come on, sweetheart, I don’t need to listen to your private conversations to know the kind of things you’ll be doing when you’re not going around town hoarding supplies with that pretty assistant of yours." Nat leaned back against the counter, a smug, knowing grin pulling at his lips. "What was his name again? Sami? Small?"
"It’s Samuel," April corrected flatly.
"Right, Tamu," he said easily.
April’s forehead irked, her jaw tightening by a fraction. Tamu? He wasn’t even trying to get the name right.
Was he deliberately mispronouncing it just to test her patience? It was entirely childish, yet it was exactly the kind of irritating bait this man loved to throw out.
"In any case, I’m not lying, right?" Nat continued, his wild eyes gleaming as he locked his gaze onto hers. "You’re not busy in any way."
"I am busy," she grumbled, rolling her eyes away from him to look at the empty brass casings on the floor.
"Nope," he said, his tone popping on the consonant with absolute certainty. "You’re not."
For a few seconds that followed, no one spoke and no one moved. The narrow firing lane fell into a heavy, suspended quiet, as if they were engaged in a silent freeze contest to see who would break the atmosphere first.
April stood perfectly rigid, completely prepared to stay in that charged, stubborn silence for the next hour if it meant winning a point of friction against his ego.
But Nat was not a man built for patient waiting.
"Come on," Nat murmured, the playful mockery suddenly draining from his face as his voice dropped into a low, teasing rumble.
He stepped closer, his massive frame completely towering over her smaller, slender structure as he looked down at her. "You didn’t forget what we agreed on back then, did you?"