Chapter 3
Harlan had put Ava on Lane Seven.
The lane with the worst crosswind.
The lane everyone avoided.
The lane with a rifle pulled from the back rack and handed to her without letting her check the zero.
Ava knew it too.
She had known from the third shot.
The rifle was off.
Not a little.
Badly.
But saying that out loud would make her sound like every recruit who blamed the weapon instead of herself.
So she stayed quiet.
She studied the dust.
She watched the flags.
She counted the delay between her shot and the target movement.
Then she kept missing.
Not because she didn’t know what she was doing.
Because she was learning exactly how wrong the rifle was.
Harlan turned away.
“Pack it up. You’re done.”
Ava looked past him.
Past the first target.
Past the second.
Past the standard qualification boards.
All the way to the farthest steel plate at the edge of the range.
Seven hundred yards out.
Small.
Barely visible through the heat shimmer.
A plate used only for advanced shooters.
Ava took one slow breath.
Then she said, “Give me one last round.”
Harlan stopped.
May you like
The whole line seemed to freeze with him.
Read Part 4 to see why one final bullet made the entire range hold its breath.
