Lisa knew her son only wanted to show he cared. Still, her tone sharpened, firm and final. "I've told you before. You can't waste time on things that don't matter. They will ruin what's truly important." Joe Barnett's lips pushed into a sulk. "But ... " The word slipped out, but he stopped. His mother's cold, heavy eyes froze him in place. He swallowed the rest, dropped his head, and walked after her without another word. Inside the Mervyns' estate training hall ... Raven held the pistol in her hand, her voice tight with unease. "Mr. Theodore, are we really going to do this?" She did not finish. Theodore leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, and he cut her short. "Rae Rae, how many times do I have to tell you? Just call me Theodore." Raven let out a long sigh. "Fine, Theodore." She added quickly, "And I've told you enough times too. Don't call me Rae Rae." The nickname made her skin crawl every time she heard it. Theodore's eyes stayed on her, slow and relaxed. "I know. But I like calling you that." Her brows pressed together. "Then I like calling you Mr. Theodore." He stayed quiet. His stare locked onto hers. Raven refused to look away. For ten long seconds, they held each other. In the end, she gave up first. She drew in a breath, steadying herself. "Fine, Theodore. What I want to know is this. Are we really using live rounds?"He hummed in reply. "We'll try it. Maybe once you shoot with real bullets, your aim will get better." Heat rushed to her face. She gave a small nod. The last month had been nothing but brutal drills. She had been forced into boxing, swordplay, shooting, archery, and every other skill Theodore demanded. The result was clear. Anything that required aiming was her weakest ground. Her vision was sharp. Her eyes were fine. Yet she could not land a shot. Theodore once imagined she would split a bullseye from a hundred yards, or fire from a speeding car and hit a moving mark. The truth was harsh. Raven often stood right in front of the target, yet still could not touch it. It wasn't just the bullseye she missed. She could not hit the target at all. Almost as if all the luck was on the target's side every time she had to make a shot. She weighed the heavy pistol in her hand. "So changing the training gun for a real one will help? That's even possible?" Theodore shook his head. "No. I just don't want to stop yet. I want you to try once more." Raven's cheeks turned red again. "Alright ... I'll give it a shot." She lifted the weapon. Her hands shook as she aimed for the bullseye. Her face tightened. She shuffled half a step closer without thinking. Theodore chuckled at her stiff posture. "Don't panic. If it doesn't work out, then you focus on fighting. At least your body moves better than most." He was right. Raven's body moved with uncanny control.She could watch a dance once or twice and then copy the steps almost perfectly. She had no real training, and her moves were rough, yet she caught the rhythm with ease. If her grandmother had been able to afford lessons, Raven might have been a dancer by now. It was not only dance. During college drills, her military boxing was sharper than anyone's. She even learned gentle fist faster than her classmates. Anything tied to rhythm and control came to her as if it were natural. Now it was the same with combat drills. Theodore only had to show her twice, and her body learned the movements at once. She lacked strength, but the form still looked fierce. Theodore's praise eased her nerves a little. She told herself she did not have to be perfect in every skill. If her aim failed, then she would fight with her fists. She never wanted to learn these things in the first place. Theodore had pushed her into them. Why burden herself more than needed? She silently tried to steel her nerves. She wiped the sweat from her palms, raised the pistol again, and fixed her eyes on the bullseye. "I'm pulling the trigger now." Theodore nodded. "Go ahead. Stay calm. Just shoot." His words were steady, but his feet slipped back a step. He placed himself behind her. No matter how poor her aim was, she would not miss so wide that the shot struck behind. Outside the door, the security captain stood stiff.A glass panel let him watch the room. Every time Theodore trained Raven, he guarded the hall to keep him safe. At first Theodore hated the constant watch. But his mother refused to bend. Celina set the rule. Raven could train with weapons and firearms, but only with her men nearby. The captain, a distant relative, had worked for the family for years. Loyal and trusted, he was chosen without question. Now his hand gripped the pistol at his side. If Raven even tried to turn her gun toward Theodore, his bullet would strike before hers.