Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 84788 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84788 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I nodded, taking a deep breath as I moved out a couple feet. "From here?" I clarified.
"Yeah, that'll do for now," he said, sounding distracted, but I could feel his eyes on me.
I took a breath as I set my feet wide and raised the gun, holding the handle in my right hand with my left hand cupped around the front of the handle to steady it. On an exhale, like Gabe taught me, I slowly squeezed the trigger. The shot echoed across the empty area, making the birds scatter from their hiding places in the trees as my bullet buzzed and landed in the center of one of the human targets.
"Can you do a head shot?" he asked, moving in behind me, looking over my shoulder so that I felt his breath on my neck and, despite the sweltering heat, I felt a shiver move through me.
"We'll see," I said, taking aim and hitting just outside the left ear.
"Again," he instructed, but as I held my arms out, his hand moved to the inside of my elbow, putting pressure until I bent it. "Don't lock your arm, keep it loose." I nodded tightly and pulled the trigger again, hitting where the eye would be, cringing a little at the visual I got in my head. "That'll do it," he said moving away from me, taking the gun from my hand. "Go stand in front of the target."
I'm pretty sure my blood went immediately cold at that instruction. "I'm sorry, what?" I asked, turning to face him, brows drawn together.
"Go stand in front of the target," he said, checking the clip before looking up at me.
"You can't be fucking serious."
"Are you questioning an order?"
"I'm questioning your marksmanship and sanity."
To that, he chuckled. His hand raised, his thumb stroking gently down the side of my jaw. "Do you really think I'd tell you to do it if there was even a chance of my fucking up this face?"
I ignored the fluttering in my belly at him sort-of calling me attractive because, really, standing in front of a target was a much bigger priority. "Um, Repo, this isn't a carnival. The bullets aren't going to come in from the back of the target like a knife throwing wheel. And I may not have the most exciting life in the world, but I still very much like being alive to live it."
"Maze... trust me, okay?"
I closed my eyes on an exhale as his finger stroked down my cheek again before dropping. Then, every cell in my body screaming not to do it, I turned and walked toward the target.
"Hey," he called as I moved away, "tie up your hair," he commanded. Then, figuring there must have been a good reason for the instruction, I grabbed the band off my wrist and tied my hair up.
I took a deep breath as I pressed my back to the target, tucking my hands behind my ass, pulling my shoulders in, trying to shrink myself as best I could. Across the field, I watched Repo check the clip again before raising his arm. Yes, arm. Singular. He didn't even spread his legs to distribute his weight. He did none of the things I was taught were integral to a precise shot. Then I stood there, frozen in absolute horror as he squeezed off a succession of six bullets faster than I could draw a breath. The bullets whizzed past my body almost simultaneously, so fast and close that I could feel them move the air around me before they stabbed into the target behind me.
When he dropped his hand, I slid down the target on shaky legs until my ass hit the ground, pulling in my legs and wrapping my arms around them as I tried to stop the way my insides were shaking.
A minute later, Repo crouched down in front of me, resting a hand on my knee. And, well, I felt the anger well up as my head snapped up to look at me. "Did I pass your stupid fucking test?" I hissed, my jaw so tight that my teeth hurt from clenching them. "Out of curiosity, this hunting Wolf is doing... is Duke the deer? And this assessing of Renny's skills up at Hailstorm, does it involve being strapped to a chair with his eyes taped open while being injected with LSD ala Mel Gibson in Conspiracy Theory? You guys are so fucking twisted."
"Hey," he said, his voice doing that obnoxious soothing thing as his thumb moved under my chin and tilted it up, "stand up and turn around to look at the target."
"Oh yay, another order."
"Maze, just fucking do it okay?" he asked, his voice still calm.
"Fine," I grumbled, pushing up onto my feet and turning to look at the target. And there were the six bullet holes: one on either side of my head, one above, one at each side of my body and one down near where my feet had separated.