Chapter 94
Elara's POV
The shooting range smelled like gun oil and concrete. Cold fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. I stood in my assigned lane, lane seven, and picked up the handgun from the metal tray.
The weight settled into my palm. Familiar. Too familiar.
"Fifty meters," Warren called out from behind us. "Ten rounds. We're scoring on accuracy and speed. When the target lights up, you have thirty seconds to fire all ten shots."
I glanced down the range. The paper target hung in the distance. Standard concentric circles. Ten ring in the center.
The girl in lane six was shaking. Her hands trembled as she tried to chamber a round.
Lane eight. Some guy I didn't know. He held his gun with both hands already raised, trying to look ready.
I loaded the magazine. My fingers moved through the motions automatically. Smooth. Practiced.
The buzzer screamed.
My body reacted before my brain caught up.
Stance. Aim. Breathe. Squeeze.
The first shot cracked out. Then the second. Third. Fourth.
The recoil barely registered. Each shot flowed into the next. My hands knew exactly where to aim. How much to adjust. When to fire.
Ten rounds. Twelve seconds.
I lowered the gun.
Then it hit me what I'd just done.
Shit.
My heart started pounding. Not from the shooting. From the realization.
Twelve seconds. Perfect muscle memory. Zero hesitation.
I should have fumbled more. Should have taken longer. Should have missed at least one shot.
Warren's footsteps approached. He pressed a button and the target zipped forward on its motorized track.
He pulled it down. Studied it. His face showed nothing.
"Grey," he said. His voice was flat. Professional. "Perfect score. All ten in the center ring."
The range went quiet.
I heard someone whisper behind me. "No way."
Warren's eyes met mine for just a second. I saw the question there. The suspicion.
Then he moved on to check the next target.
My hands were steady. They shouldn't be. A normal student would be shaking from adrenaline.
I clenched my fists. Tried to make them tremble a little. Too late now.
Alice was in lane twelve. She walked over as we waited for everyone to finish.
"That was incredible," she said quietly. "Where did you learn to shoot like that?"
I shrugged. Tried to look surprised by my own performance. "My brother took me to the range a few times. I guess... I don't know. It just felt natural?"
The lie sounded weak even to my own ears.
I could feel Dylan's stare from across the range. When I glanced over, his face was dark red. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping.
He'd scored sixty-eight out of a hundred. Respectable for most people.
But I'd just made him look like an amateur.
And I hadn't even been trying to hide it.
---
The combat training area was outdoors. Padded mats laid over packed dirt. A chain-link fence surrounded the space.
Warren paired us off randomly. My opponent was a Council agent. Mid-thirties. Built like he spent every free hour in the gym. He had at least sixty pounds on me.
"Three rounds," Warren announced. "Two minutes each. Pin your opponent or force a submission to win the round. Excessive force will disqualify you."
The agent looked down at me. I saw the calculation in his eyes. Small Omega girl. This would be easy.
He was wrong.
The whistle blew.
He came in fast. Trying to use his weight advantage. Grab me. Pin me down.
I sidestepped. Let his momentum carry him past.
He spun. Faster than I expected. Reached for my arm.
I couldn't overpower him. Didn't try to. Instead I used his own force against him.
Grabbed his wrist. Stepped in close. Twisted.
Basic joint lock. Something any trained fighter would know.
His face changed. Surprise replaced confidence.
He tried to pull free. I shifted my weight. Kept the pressure on his wrist while sweeping his leg.
He went down hard.
I followed him to the mat. Transitioned to an arm bar before he could recover.
"Tap out or I break it," I said quietly.
His free hand slapped the mat three times.
Warren's whistle cut through the air. "Round one. Grey."
The agent got up slowly. He was looking at me differently now.
Round two went faster. He was more cautious. But caution made him predictable.
I feinted high. Went low. Took his legs out from under him and locked in a rear choke.
He tapped in fifteen seconds.
Round three he didn't even try. I could see it in his posture. He was going through the motions.
I took him down with a hip throw and pinned him.
Warren marked something on his clipboard. "Grey. Pass. Next pair."
I walked to the water station. My hands were shaking now. Just slightly.
I'd held back. Used basic techniques. Nothing too advanced.
But I'd still moved with the kind of precision that came from years of real combat. Not training. Not sparring.
Actual life or death fights.
Alice caught my eye from across the training area. She didn't come over this time. Just gave me a long look. Her expression was different from before. Less impressed. More calculating.
Dylan was watching too. His expression was darker than before.
I grabbed a water bottle and took a long drink. The cold liquid helped settle my nerves a little. Around me, other pairs were still fighting. Grunting. The thud of bodies hitting mats. Warren's whistle blowing.
Alice finished her match and walked over slowly. Sweat plastered her hair to her forehead. She wasn't smiling anymore.
"Your brother must be one hell of a teacher," she said. Her tone was casual but her eyes weren't.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Said nothing.
"Shooting. Fighting. Both in one morning." She took a drink from her water bottle. "Those are some pretty comprehensive lessons for backyard self-defense."
My stomach tightened. "He wanted me to be able to protect myself."
"Clearly it worked." She paused. "You know what's interesting though? The way you moved in there. That wasn't self-defense. That was offense disguised as defense."
I met her eyes. Kept my voice steady. "I did what I had to do to pass."
"Yeah." She nodded slowly. "You did."
The conversation died there. But I could feel the shift between us. She was still friendly. Still on my side maybe.
But she was watching me now. Really watching.
Before she could ask more questions, Warren's whistle cut through the air.
"Tactical analysis. Everyone to briefing room three. Now."