Page 107 of Konstantin
Iseult flips her bright red hair off her shoulders and pulls a sleek pistol from the holster strapped to her thigh, hidden beneath her long black dress. Her grin is razor-sharp as she rolls her neck and flexes her fingers. She lives for this, doesn’t she?
Konstantin hands me his weapon. The metal is cold and unforgiving, like the world I’ve chosen to infiltrate.
“Four shots. Four targets. One winner.” His gaze bounces between us.
The tension tightens around me like a noose. I’m incredibly competitive. I don’t lose.
Iseult stands at one end of the line, posture flawless, her gun already raised and waiting. I steady myself on the other side, heels planted, grip firm.
“Ready?” Konstantin’s voice rings out.
We both nod.
“Go.”
My breath slows. I block out everything. The brightness of the lights above, everyone’s stares. Just me and the bottle.
We fire at the same time.
Glass shatters in unison.
She turns her head, smirking. “Nice shot.”
“You too.”
“I never miss,” she tosses out, like she’s trying to make me nervous, but I only admire the cockiness about her.
“Neither do I.” My mouth curls.
We fire again. Both bottles shatter cleanly.
Then two more.
Only one bottle remains for both of us.
She turns her head, flashes an arrogant smile, and fires. The bullet goes wide.
And she misses.
Whoops…
I try hard to hide my grin, but fail miserably.
“Fuck!” she hisses, the gun falling to her side.
Now it’s my turn. I take one steady breath, center the target, squeeze the trigger, and…the glass explodes.
A low whistle escapes Gio. “She’s gonna be pissed.”
“She’s dangerous when she’s pissed,” someone mutters behind him.
Iseult shakes her head, pacing once in frustration before spinning to face me. “How the hell can you shoot like that? Shit, are you a cop or something?”
My pulse stalls for a fraction of a second, but I force a laugh. “I sure as hell hope not. Don’t think that’d end well for any of us.”
She narrows her eyes at me, then snickers like it’s all just a joke. “Rematch? I think you owe me one.”
I start to answer, but Konstantin cuts me off, a hand winding around my hips.
