Page 152 of Stolen Empire
She tries to grip the pistol with her left hand high on her wrist and I correct it, sliding it lower under the butt of the weapon for stability.
She adjusts her stance, her jaw tight, and I back up, crossing my arms.
"Now aim. Focus on the target. Line up the sights. When you're ready, squeeze the trigger. Don't jerk it."
She raises the pistol, her arms shaking slightly.
She squints down the barrel, then pulls the trigger.
The shot goes wide, missing the bottles entirely, and she jolts at the noise, letting the gun kick up high and wincing.
She lowers the gun, her face flushed.
"Again," I say.
"But—" she protests, looking intimidated.
I hate being hard on her, but it's for her own good.
"Again."
She takes a breath, steadies herself, and fires.
The bottle on the left explodes, glass scattering across the ground.
This time she doesn't lower the gun immediately.
I feel something loosen in my chest.
"Better. You're getting it," I tell her, but I know we're far from where she should be.
She looks at me, surprise flickering across her face.
Then she raises the pistol again, more confident this time.
She fires twice, hitting two more bottles in quick succession.
When she lowers the gun, there's a small smile on her lips.
"Good," I tell her. "You're learning."
Katya sighs and tries again and again.
She misses a few more times, which is to be expected, but by the time she's emptied the clip all but one of the bottles I set up are in pieces on the grass.
She hands the pistol back to me, wiping her hands on her pants.
"Can we go inside now?"
"Yes."
I reload the weapon and tuck it back into my waistband.
"But we're doing this again tomorrow and the day after. Until you can hit every target without hesitation."
She doesn't argue.
Just nods and walks back toward the house.
