Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me novel Chapter 236

Chapter 236 Teaching Me How To Shoot

Tristan sat beside me. He stretched his long legs out, bracing his boots against a crate of stolen electronics. He wore a dark jacket over a black shirt. The shadows in the cargo hold clung to his sharp jawline. He looked at home in the dark.

I shivered. The altitude sucked the heat from the unpressurized cabin.

Tristan noticed. He unzipped his jacket. He pulled me against his chest. I wrapped my arms around his waist. I buried my face in the crook of his neck. His body heat seeped into my freezing skin.

“Four hours to the drop zone,” Tristan said. He spoke directly into my ear to beat the engine noise.

‘I can manage, I replied. I refused to complain. I chose this path.

“I know you can,” he said. He did not patronize me. He did not treat me like a fragile corporate wife>

He reached into his tactical vest. He pulled out a compact, matte-black handgun. He held it between us.

“Rule one of the underground, Tristan began. His voice turned clinical. The warlord shared his trade. “You never trust the transport. You never trust the pilot. “You trust the steel in your hand.

He pressed a button near the trigger guard. The magazine slid out. He caught it. He handed the empty weapon to me.

‘Hold it, he ordered.

I took the gun. It felt heavy. Cold. I fired weapons at the gun range for corporate security training. I never held one in a freezing cargo plane flying off the grid.

‘Your grip is too low, Tristan corrected. He wrapped his large, calloused hands over mine. He adjusted my fingers. “High on the backstrap. You control the recoil. You do not let the weapon control you.”

I memorized the feeling.

‘Rack the slide, he instructed.

I gripped the top of the gun. I pulled back. The spring offered heavy resistance. I forced it. The metal clicked.

“Good, Tristan said. He handed me the loaded magazine. ‘Insert it. Do not look down. Keep your eyes on the threat. Your hands must know the weapon without your eyes.”

I stared at the wooden crate across from us. I imagined Federal Prosecutor Sterling standing there. I imagined the men who hunted my son. I slid the magazine into the grip. It locked with a sharp snap. I racked the slide again, I chambered a round.

Tristan watched my face. A dark, possessive approval burned in his gray eyes. He did not fear my sharp edges. He sharpened them.

‘Keep it,” Tristan said. ‘Inside pocket of your jacket. Safety on.”

I concealed the weapon. The weight against my ribs offered a strange comfort. It offered control. Sterling stripped my bank accounts. He seized my company. He could not seize the steel in my pocket.

“We enter through the main gate,” Tristan decided. “The broker secured our spots on the guest list. We use the front door.”

“The vault is here,” I traced a line to the center of the structure. “Sub-basement level two. The blueprints show biometric locks. Retinal scanners. A

pressurized steel door.

‘I can bypass the pressure locks,” Tristan said. He studied the lines. “I need three minutes undisturbed at the vault door.”

‘I will give you five,’ I promised.

“The Architect keeps an elite security detail,” Tristan warned. He tapped the paper. “They roam the floor. They blend with the guests. You must identify them. Look for the men not drinking. Look for the men watching the exits.”

‘I will isolate the Architect, I planned. My mind raced. “He wants to sell the ledger. I will play the role of a desperate buyer. I will distract him in the VIP lounge while you breach the vault.”

Tristan frowned. The tactical commander clashed with the devoted husband.

“You will be in a room with a cartel proxy and his guards, Tristan stated. The muscle in his jaw ticked. I will be two floors down. If the situation goes bad,

I cannot reach you in time.”

“I possess the gun,” I reminded him. I patted my jacket. I possess the intellect. You said we are equals in the dark. Trust me.”