Chapter 433:
Rylie gave a small nod and stepped into position, her movements calm and deliberate. With no wind to factor in, she studied the moving target for a brief moment, her gaze sharp and focused. Then, without a hint of hesitation, she raised the rifle and pulled the trigger in rapid succession.
The ten shots cracked through the air almost simultaneously, the speed of her fire leaving everyone momentarily frozen in place.
A stunned voice broke over the loudspeaker, shaky with disbelief. “All ten rounds… dead center on the bullseye. A perfect 100 points! This… this can’t be real!”
A hush had settled over the training ground, tension thick in the air.
Pulling off a perfect set of bullseyes was impressive on stationary targets—accomplishing it on moving ones bordered on miraculous. “Inspect her weapon!” a voice called from the crowd. “Is something wrong with that gun? Maybe Admiral Morgan gave her an unfair edge!”
Laughter rumbled from Brad, who found himself dragged into the commotion. “Play by the book—always have,” he replied with a smirk.
Rylie stepped forward, unbothered, and offered her pistol to the referee for inspection. Every detail was checked before the verdict came. “Nothing unusual here. The firearm’s perfectly standard.”
Dissatisfaction rippled through the soldiers. “Run it back! We want a rematch!”
Brad straightened, his tone easy but unyielding as he addressed them. “This time we’re using handguns, 50-yard rapid fire. Anyone who loses gets fishing duty.”
No hesitation showed as Rylie picked a handgun at random, forgoing the official posture; she simply gripped the weapon with one hand, the other shoved carelessly into her pocket.
gαℓησν𝒆𝓁s﹒c𝗈m has it all
A crisp countdown echoed across the field. “Three… Two… One… Fire!”
Shots split the air in near-perfect unison, each round sharp and precise. Exhilaration colored the scorer’s announcement. “Ten shots—ten bullseyes again!”
At her side, Ricardo managed to match her score, every shot the result of endless practice and an instinct honed by years in uniform.
No one could fathom how someone so young—barely past twenty—could demonstrate such effortless mastery.
Ricardo asked, “Did you have special training? Your technique is exceptional.”
A casual shrug accompanied Rylie’s answer as she set her weapon aside. “Now and then I practice at the range. Time for you all to test your luck at sea.”
No one argued for another round. The measured calm in her eyes told them enough—she was concealing far more skill than she let on. Competing further would only highlight their own shortcomings.
A round of laughter erupted as a few men thumped their chests in mock defeat. “Miss Owen, get ready for a seafood banquet—we’ll catch the best for you!”
Secrecy wrapped the mission tight; it wasn’t until Brad’s ship docked in Crolens that Jaxon, his second-in-command, learned just how long they’d all been away. The sight of battered ship debris and bodies returned—including Ronan’s—sent Jaxon reeling, his legs threatening to give way beneath him.
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