Page 126 of G.O.D.S Omnibus
Once we’re inside, we split ways, heading into opposite locker rooms to get changed. After throwing on my sports bra and shorts, I stuff everything back into my bag and exit the room. Trace is already changed and warming up on the mat. I join him and begin my stretches. I’m getting better at this whole self-defence stuff, but they need to up the pace. We only have a few months left to get me up to scratch and I’m nowhere near the level of Summer and Blayne.
“I want to learn some real shit. Teach me how to disarm someone with a weapon.”
He looks up at me and smiles, his brown hair long enough that it flops across his face, and he swipes it out of the way. The movement draws my attention to his tattoos; I’m not sure if he has any spare skin minus his face, every surface covered in bright colours right up to his jawline. Trace—so much like Davis with his boy-next-door look. I used to dream about him being my first and felt guilty about it because he looked out for me. He was my person, but the tables have turned, and the truth is now out there. I now see him in a different light, and don’t feel guilty about the way I’m drinking him in.
“Okay, get up,” he says, jumping to a standing position and heading to his bag. He rustles around in it until he finds what he’s looking for and pulls out a gun.
“Trace, why do you have that?” I gasp out.
“You still have no idea of the dangers around you, do you? How have the years made you so naïve? Relax, there aren’t any bullets.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, eyeing the gun warily.
“Just remember, your goal in a situation like this is to get the fuck out of there before someone gets a gun to your head. Or if you can’t run, at least do what they say.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. But let’s just say it’s life or death and I have to fight.”
“Overconfidence will get you fucking killed, Jolie.”
I hold my hands up in surrender. “Calm down, jeez.”
He holds his arm out as if he is going to shoot me at close range. “Alright, grab my arm at the wrist, and make sure the gun is pointing away from you.”
I do as he says, and his praise causes my heart to flutter.
“Continue that momentum and twist the arm to the right as you face away from where I was originally positioned. Now flip me like we’ve taught you. When I fall to the ground, keep your hand on my arm and try to take the gun. Use your foot on my arm if you need to.”
I follow his instructions and he goes down easy the first time. Then he runs me through another technique. “This way is riskier, and you run the chance of the gun going off, especially if the person with the gun is stronger than you, but if you’re in a position where you’re going to die anyway, it’s worth a shot.”
He shows me how to twist the gun down in an attempt to break the gunman’s finger and take the gun by bending their wrist. It’s so much to take in, but we run over it a few times. Trace tells me a person only grabs a gun one way: between their thumb and fingers. So when the grip is mostly based on the thumb, attacking that digit with a strike or a twisting motion can break their hold.
He also runs me through what to do if a gun is pointed at the back of my head. While I really hope I’m never in a situation like this, my gut tells me I shouldn’t be so complacent with my safety anymore.
We spend two hours going over the same moves until Trace feels like I have memorised them. He also makes sure to tell me that if I have to run away, do it in a zigzag motion or an unpredictable pattern, as it could aid in not getting hit with a bullet.
I fall to the floor at the end of the session. My stamina is getting a hell of a lot better, but I am spent. Trace flops down beside me.
“What’s been going on with you lately?” I ask. I hadn’t missed his attitude towards Chester when he thought we were going to fuck.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit, Trace, give me some credit. I know you better than you remember.” Rolling on my side, I face him, and he follows suit.
“I never gave thought to what it would be like once we were both back. Honestly, I thought they would have shot me on sight. And here we are, years later, and I’m facing feelings that I denied myself, wrote off as how one would feel about a little sister. But I was lying to myself.”
“You all need to stop beating yourselves up. They lied to you, and as a result, you had to figure out how you were feeling alone. I can only imagine how much that sucked. Chester told me how disgusted he felt.”
Trace growls at the mention of Chester’s name.
“What’s the deal with you two?”
“There is no deal,” he snaps, sitting up. He makes it look so effortless and yet I have to roll onto my stomach and then push myself up.
“Stop lying.”
He turns to face me, jaw tense, but I stare him down, waiting for him to tell me.
“I was jealous,” he whispers, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “I was the closest to you, responsible for keeping you safe. Then he swoops in, without even warning you his obsession can be deadly. He’s kept it buried for so long that I know after one taste he will lose himself in you. It will release a monster that everyone would be wise to fear, including us.”
