Instead, she focused.
On the target.
On her breathing.
On something outside the chaos that constantly churned in her mind.
The first shot rang out sharply, the sound cracking through the room and echoing down the halls beyond. The recoil pushed back into her arm, and she flinched, just slightly, but not like before. Not like the first time she had stood in this room.
She exhaled slowly, adjusted her stance, and fired again.
Time moved differently inside these walls. Minutes blurred into something longer, quieter, more controlled. Each shot steadied her a little more. Each movement reminded her that she still held power over something, even if it was only her aim, her breath, her posture.
Out there, beyond these walls, Santiago was resting. Recovering from whatever business had pulled him away and whatever world he had stepped back into without explanation. No one seemed to know exactly where he had gone or how long he would sleep, and no one dared disturb him.
