Chapter 4
Harlan looked back over his shoulder, amused.
“What did you say?”
Ava turned fully toward him.
Her voice was quiet, but everyone heard it.
“Give me one last round.”
A few soldiers laughed again.
But it sounded nervous this time.
Harlan removed his sunglasses.
His eyes were pale and cold.
“One more?” he asked.
Ava nodded.
“One.”
Harlan stepped closer until his shadow covered her boots.
“One more round,” he said, loud enough for every soldier to hear, “and then you get off my range.”
Ava didn’t blink.
“Understood.”
He shoved the rifle back into her hands.
Not respectfully.
Not safely.
Just hard enough to remind everyone who had the power.
Ava caught it.
Checked the chamber.
Accepted the single round from the ammunition table.
And for the first time all morning, she stopped trying to hide what she knew.
She looked at the rear sight.
Then the front post.
Then the wind flags.
Then the dust behind the missed targets.
Her last five shots had not been random.
They had formed a group.
A tight group.
Eighteen inches low.
Twenty-four inches left.
The rifle had been sabotaged or neglected so badly that an average shooter would never know what was happening.
They would just miss.
They would get blamed.
They would walk away ashamed.
Ava loaded the final round.
The click sounded louder than the gunfire had.
Harlan crossed his arms again.
His smirk returned.
May you like
“Make it count, Hollywood.”
Read Part 5 to see where Ava aimed when everyone expected her to fail again.
