Page 63 of The Bratva’s Monster

“This room only has one entrance and one exit,” he says. “Believe it or not, that’s actually good news for you. Anybody decides to come for you, you’re more likely to see them before they see you in a dark room.”

“And in a well-lit room?”

“Nobody’s coming in here when the lights are on. Not if they’re smart.”

I don’t know if that’s comforting or not, but it certainly makes me want to keep the lights on all night.

“Okay, aim the gun at the door.”

I bring my arm up, pointing the gun toward the door. He touches the back of my free arm and lifts it up. “Both hands.”

I nod and take the gun in both my hands.

“See that little red dot at the end of the barrel? Right on the ridge.”

I tilt my head as I look down the barrel of the gun, focusing on the tiny ridge at the end with a bright red dot of paint. “Yes?”

“Wherever you’re trying to hit, make sure that dot is pointed right at it.”

“Okay. So, if the guy is taller than me…” I point the gun a few inches above me. He rests his hand on my arm and lowers it.

“Aim for his chest, not his head. This gun has a kick to it and your shot might miss him entirely if you aim too high.”

That makes sense, I guess.

“Now, once you got your target lined up, squeeze the trigger. Don’t pull it. Squeeze.”

I nod and squeeze the trigger slowly until it clicks in my hands. “Very nice,” he says. He takes the gun out of my hand and turns it over so that it’s on its side. “To load it, press this button to release the magazine. Then you take a fresh magazine and shove it in the bottom until it clicks.”

He steps over to the bed where there are several magazines laid out, all full of bullets. He picks one up and shoves it in the bottom. “Then you cock it,” he says as he pulls the top of the gun back. It gives a satisfying click. “Then you’re ready to go.”

He regards me for a half second, then says, “Don’t play around with this thing. It’s a tool like any other and it has a distinct purpose. Don’t aim it unless you plan on shooting it and don’t shoot it unless you plan on killing somebody.”

“I mean, I could shoot a guy in the leg⁠—”

“No, you can’t,” he says firmly. “It can take up to five minutes for a person to drop after they’ve been shot. And a person can do a lot of damage in that time. That’s why we aim for the chest and we don’t stop shooting until they stop coming. Empty the whole thing if you have to.”

My mouth is suddenly dry. I’ve never even dreamed of killing someone. I don’t know if I can do it.

He leans in, making eye contact with me. “This isn’t about hurting someone, Liz. It’s about killing them first before they kill you. It’s important that you understand that.”

I nod, and I do understand it, but I’m scared shitless.

He hands me the gun, handle side first. “If you manage to miss or he keeps coming, you can hit him with the handle of the gun. That you can aim for his head.”

“Okay,” I say, turning the gun around in my hands gingerly.

“Set it down.”

I set it on the bed.

“How are you at self-defense?”

“I know some things,” I tell him. “Kick for the shin, not the balls. Aim for the eyes, don’t be afraid to scream⁠—”

“Good. That’s all really good. The ears, nose, and solar plexus are all great too for punches. Remember, you’re not looking to put the guy down. You’re looking for a chance to incapacitate him long enough to get away.”

“Got it,” I tell him, though, most of that I already know. Any woman living in the city has to know those basics.