The warehouse smelled like sweat and blood.
Emma stood in the center of the room, chest heaving, arms trembling as she held a gun — Skyler's gun — pointed straight ahead.
"Again," Skyler ordered, his voice sharp, merciless.
Emma pulled the trigger.
The shot rang out, hitting the paper target dead center in the chest.
Skyler's mouth twitched — approval hidden behind his cold mask.
"Not bad," he said. "But you hesitated. In real life, hesitation gets you killed."
Emma gritted her teeth and reset her stance, feeling the bruises already forming under her skin.
Skyler hadn't gone easy on her — not in hand-to-hand combat, not with weapons, not with strategy.
Because he knew kindness wouldn't save her.
He needed her to be lethal.
"Again," he barked.
Emma fired, faster this time — and her shot clipped the target's neck.
"Center mass!" Skyler snapped, closing the distance between them in two furious strides. "Always center mass!"
Emma lowered the gun, frustrated tears stinging her eyes.
"I'm trying," she muttered.
Skyler grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him.
"No," he growled, voice low and dangerous. "You're thinking like a civilian. Like prey."
He leaned closer, until his breath was warm against her ear.
"You're not prey anymore, Emma. You're a queen. Act like it."
The words hit something deep inside her.
She lifted the gun again, hands steady now.
Bam-bam-bam.
Three shots.
Three perfect hits.
Skyler stepped back, a slow, wicked smile curving his mouth.
"There she is," he murmured.
Emma felt a fierce pride bloom in her chest — pride she hadn't felt in years.
Maybe she was changing.
Maybe she had to.
But as Skyler moved toward her, dark and dangerous, that old fear whispered through her:
When he's done building you into a weapon… will you still belong to him?
Because sometimes, you outgrow the man who made you strong.
"Training's over for tonight," Skyler said roughly. His eyes were burning, not with anger now, but something else. Something hotter.
Emma dropped the gun, adrenaline thrumming through her blood.
Without a word, Skyler pulled her into him, crashing his mouth against hers with brutal urgency.
It wasn't sweet.
It wasn't gentle.
It was raw need, violent devotion, the collision of two broken souls who knew they would destroy each other and didn't care anymore.
Skyler pressed her back against the wall, hands roving her body with desperate hunger.
"You drive me insane," he muttered against her mouth. "I can't think straight when you're near."
Emma gasped, clutching at his shoulders. "Then don't think."
He growled low in his throat, lifting her effortlessly.
They lost themselves in each other — all anger, all fear, all desperate love burning them alive.
After, as they lay tangled on the cold floor, Skyler brushed his fingers down her spine.
"You don't belong in this world," he murmured.
Emma turned her head to look at him, exhausted but defiant.
"Maybe not," she said. "But I belong with you."
Skyler's eyes flashed — pride, possession, pain.
"You'll regret that," he whispered.
"I'll take my chances," she whispered back.
But neither of them knew that in the shadows beyond the warehouse walls, enemies were already closing in.
And this time, love might not be enough to save them.