Chapter 5
The wind screamed across the range.
The target waited far beyond the heat and dust.
Nora lay behind the rifle, cheek against the worn wood.
Her left hand found the same groove her father’s hand had worn into the stock.
For one second, she was back in that garage.
Ten years old.
Watching sawdust fall.
Hearing his voice.
Don’t let them control the shot.
Hollister stood behind her, arms crossed.
He still wanted her to fail.
Colonel Drummond stood to the side.
His face was unreadable, but his eyes were not.
He knew what that rifle meant.
Because he had been there the day Marcus made the original shot.
He had been the wounded Marine in open ground.
The man Marcus saved.
The man who came home because Marcus didn’t.
Nora did not know that.
Not yet.
The range officer called out.
“Shooter ready?”
Nora inhaled.
Held.
Released.
“Ready.”
The flag cracked behind her.
A spotter whispered wind numbers.
They were ugly.
Almost impossible.
Hollister shook his head.
“She can’t make this,” he muttered.
Drummond heard him.
His voice was cold.
“Your problem, Gunny, is you keep confusing can’t with won’t let her.”
Hollister said nothing.
Nora adjusted.
Not much.
Just enough.
The rifle looked too old for the moment.
Too simple.
Too quiet.
Then she fired.
The crack split the wind.
Dust jumped from the mat.
The sound rolled across the desert and vanished into the ridgeline.
Everyone stared downrange.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Nothing.
Hollister’s mouth twitched.
Then the steel rang.
A clean, sharp impact echoed back across the range.
The target swung hard.
The spotter lifted his head slowly.
His voice carried through the loudspeaker.
May you like
“Impact. Center mass.”
Read Part 6 to see why Hollister still tried to destroy Nora after the impossible shot.
