#Chapter 47: Target Practice

Ella The laughter from Logan was unexpected—a short burst, barely audible over the ambient hum of the bar's patrons. “You’re very funny, Ella,” he said, shaking his head. I sat up straighter, leveling Logan with an icy stare. “I’m dead serious, Logan.” His blue eyes bore into mine, trying to gauge if I was joking. “You? A gun?” “Yes,” I replied, unwavering. “Growing up, my father made sure I took shooting lessons. For self-defense. Your bodyguard has an extra pistol, doesn't he?” Logan’s expression shifted from amusement to contemplation. “You truly think you can handle it?” “I wouldn’t be asking if I couldn’t.” He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Alright. But you’ll have to prove yourself first.” “Prove myself how?” I laughed, looking around. “Don’t tell me your next big reveal of the night is for me to shoot the pimp that’s been standing in the corner and giving you dirty glares since you beat up one of his customers.” Logan’s face