Chapter 6: I am not a killer

The gun felt heavy in my hand. It was much heavier than the ones I used for practice. That practice was in a clean, quiet room. This gun felt real. It was a cold, dark weight.

The man on his knees groaned. He was badly hurt.

Victor watched me. His eyes were as cold as ice. "Well?" he said.

I put my finger on the trigger. It felt smooth and cool. I knew Jaxon was standing behind me. He was quiet, but he was there for me.

I remembered all the people who had hurt me. Kelsey's sharp voice. Ayden's laughing face. All of them. They had all made me feel small.

This was my moment. This was power.

I lifted the gun. My arm was straight and did not shake. I aimed at the man's chest. I breathed slowly. My heart beat like a steady drum. This was why I had trained. This was my revenge.

But my finger would not move.

The man looked up. One of his eyes was swollen shut. The other eye begged me. "Please," he whispered. Blood was on his lips. "I have a daughter."

Those words hit me like a punch. I told myself they were just words. Victor said this man was bad. He had stolen. He had lied. He deserved this.

"He stole from me, Scarlett," Victor said. His voice was calm. "He lied. He let his friends take the blame. This is justice. Not revenge. Justice."

I clenched my jaw. Justice. The word felt empty. This felt different. This felt... final.

Jaxon moved behind me. I felt his eyes on me. This was my test. To be one of them. To be strong. To never be hurt again, you had to be the one who hurt others.

I thought of the practice range. The loud bang. The feel of the gun in my hands. The hole in the paper target. That was easy. This was a man.

"Do it," Victor said. His voice was sharp now.

I took a deep breath. I aimed again. I could do this. I had to do this. It was just one small pull.

My finger started to squeeze.

The man cried.

And I lowered the gun. My arm fell to my side. The heavy metal now pointed at the floor.

The room was silent. This silence was louder than any noise.

Victor's face did not change. But his eyes got colder. "Explain," he said.

My voice was soft, but it was strong. "I can't."

"Can't?" he repeated. "Or will not?"

"He is beaten. He is broken. You have already won," I said, looking right at him. "Shooting him now... it is not justice. It is a show. And I am not here to put on a show."

Victor stared at me for a long time. The air felt thick. Finally, he gave a slow nod to two men in the shadows. They moved forward. They grabbed the crying man and dragged him away.

Victor walked close to me. He did not take the gun from my hand.

"You have a good eye. A steady hand. You are smart and strong," he said, his voice very quiet. "But strength without the will to use it is useless. Mercy is a luxury we cannot have. It is a crack in your armor. And cracks get people killed."

He turned and walked away. His footsteps echoed.

I stood there, the gun still heavy in my hand. Jaxon came to stand beside me.

"He is not wrong," Jaxon said quietly.

"I know," I whispered. "But I am not wrong either."

I held the gun out to him. He took it. His fingers touched mine.

"What happens now?" I asked.

"Now?" Jaxon took the bullets out of the gun. "Now he is disappointed. But he is also more interested than ever. You did not break. You just bent in your own way. He does not know what to do with that."

I looked at the door where Victor had left. I came for revenge. I wanted to become hard so nothing could hurt me. I held the gun. I aimed it. But I chose not to fire.

This was not the ending I had planned.

But as I stood there, alive, I realized something. I had found a different kind of power. It was small and new, but it was mine. The war for my soul was not over. It had only just started. And for the first time, I felt I might win.

I had done it. I had stood up to Victor. I had said no.

A voice inside me said this was weakness, just like Victor said. But a louder voice said it was my choice. My first real choice in a long time.

I took a step away from the door. Then another. I was leaving. I did not know where I would go, but I had to get out.

Then, a single, sharp sound exploded from behind the door.

BANG!

It was a gunshot. It was not loud and messy like in movies. It was a clean, terrible crack. After the sound, the world was silent.

I froze. My blood felt like ice.

I knew. I knew what had happened. The man was dead. And I had not pulled the trigger.

The door opened behind me. Jaxon stepped out. He closed the door softly. He did not look at me at first. He was wiping his hands and the gun on a small, white cloth.

I turned slowly. My voice was a whisper. "Jaxon?"

He looked up. His eyes were empty. "It is done."

"You... you shot him?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.

"He was a dead man the moment he betrayed Victor," Jaxon said. His voice was calm. Like he was talking about the weather. "You just made it happen five minutes later."

"But I said no!" My voice was sharp with horror.

Jaxon stepped closer. "And Victor said yes. Your 'no' does not matter here, Scarlett. Not yet."

“He was begging, Jaxon! He said he had a daughter!”

“And now his daughter has no father,” he said. His words were hard. “That is the truth. This is the world you walked into. You wanted power? This is the price.”

“This is not what I wanted,” I said, my voice shaking.

“What did you want, then?” he asked. “You wanted to be strong. You wanted to hurt the people who hurt you. But you thought you could do it with clean hands? It does not work like that.”

"I am not a killer," I said. My whole body was trembling.

"Not yet," Jaxon replied. "But you will be. Or you will be dead. There is no other choice."