beautiful thieves | ✓

ten

Zavier wasn't lying. They decide to start me on cardio, testing my strength and fitness, and when we're barely an hour in I'm already needing a refill of water. There's a sheen of sweat that covers my body and the hair that has fallen out of my ponytail is sticking to my face. My legs are aching and my heart is hammering, and although Zavier and Danielle have been nothing but welcoming during my first few days, I can't help but feel like I'm being judged in some way, as if I'm a rotting carcass on the ground slowly being surrounded by vultures. It might just be that the two of them are looking like effortlessly glamorous supermodels, but the way they're talking in hushed tones as I push myself to my limits is setting me on edge.

"Right," Zavier says, clapping his hands together. "I think that's enough cardio. What do you think, Danielle?"

She's standing off to the side, seemingly deep in thought as she takes a drag of her cigarette. "Yeah, she's done well," she says absentmindedly, throwing her cigarette to the ground and stomping on it with a shiny heel. Then she smiles. "Perhaps we should move on to the shooting range."

I light up a bit at this, having been excited to have a gun in my hand since I had one strapped to my thigh. Breathing heavily, I pick myself off the equipment and follow the other two as they make their way to another section, passing the boxing ring as we walk. Blake smirks at me as we pass, and yet again I'm feeling like that poor carcass dying out in the middle of a vast desert.

The shooting range is another modern and shiny area, where there is a large corridor leading down until it comes to a dead end, black and white targets all over the wall at the end in a variety of sizes. There's a whole wall lined with class cabinets, and upon further inspection, I notice that they're full to the brim with guns, from small handguns no bigger than the one I had under my dress, to giant ones that I doubt I could even hold.

Danielle must notice the awe in my face as she chuckles. "These are just the training ones," she says. My eyes widen that much further.

Zavier moves over to the cabinets, his eyes scanning the guns before he presses his thumb against a button on the glass. The glass smoothly slides open, revealing the guns and making everything feel that much more real.

"What kind were you thinking?" Zavier asks, glancing over to Danielle as he rests his hands on his hips.

Danielle shrugs. "Maybe start with a handgun? Something easy to hold."

Zavier crouches down to the bottom shelf. "Glock-nineteen it is."

I have no idea what that could mean, until he pulls out a handgun that looks just like the one I had yesterday; black, small, yet frightfully intimidating. Zavier hands it to me, just as he did last night, but this time I take it confidently, sliding my fingers across the smooth, cold material. I would never have even dreamed of holding something like this, but here I am, holding two within twenty-four hours. It still amazes me how quickly my life has so drastically changed. I'm way in over my head.

Zavier then gets out his own, before holding it up with both hands and pointing it down the corridor.

Then he shoots, and I'm so startled at the sound that I can't help but flinch. It's so much louder than I thought it would be.

Danielle lets out a small laugh, shaking her head as she rests a hand on my shoulder. "Always the show off."

"You know it," Zavier says, not taking his eyes off the end of the corridor as he shoots again. His face is completely stoic and unbothered as he shoots, and something tells me that it doesn't matter if there was a target at the end of the barrel or a human; his face will always look the same.