Page 18 of Specter Bred

He dominated.

Five hits at one hundred. Five at three hundred. Five at five hundred. Four at one thousand. And two at fifteen hundred. Twenty-one hits out of twenty-five.

The alpha walked off the firing line wearing that same arrogant smile, soaking up the impressed looks from the other recruits as if he'd already won.

His lackeys went next. Nathan Long managed a respectable sixteen out of twenty-five, but Alec Teller didn't fare nearly as well. Thirteen out of twenty-five. Not terrible. Not impressive either.

Neither came close to Redwood's score, which only seemed to inflate his ego further.

More candidates stepped up to the firing line, posting scores that ranged from decent to downright pathetic, but nobody came within five hits of Redwood's twenty-one. With every recruit who failed to challenge him, his confidence seemed to grow.

I wasn't particularly interested in tracking who was on top and on the bottom. I was more interested in reading their shots and the range. While everyone else watched the scoreboard, I watched the wind flags snapping in the distance and the faint trails of dust kicked up by missed shots.

Every candidate revealed something with each trigger pull. Some rushed their shots, some over-corrected for the wind, and others let frustration get the better of them after a miss. By the time they stepped away from the firing line, I already knew who possessed discipline and who relied solely on luck.

At some point, Miles wandered over and stopped beside me, not because he had anything important to say, but because he expected me to acknowledge him. The alpha planted himself on my left and waited.

I ignored him.

If he was expecting ‌congratulations for posting the highest score so far, or worse, thought I was going to swoon because he'd graced me with his attention, he desperately needed a reality check

A minute passed.

Another minute passed.

I kept my attention fixed on the range, refusing to so much as glance in his direction.

The silence stretched long enough that I could practically feel his irritation building beside me. Like most men who were used to admiration, Redwood didn't seem to appreciate being treated as though he didn't exist.

Eventually, he cracked first.

"Wind's coming in hard from the south," he said casually. "Watch the drift."

"Okay."

My clipped response made it clear I wasn't interested in continuing the conversation. The last thing I wanted was Miles Redwood telling everyone he'd helped me when I beat his score.

"Jeez," he laughed. "Just trying to offer some friendly advice. Figured you could use all the friends you can get with the way Graves is out to get you."

At the mention of Grizzly, my head turned automatically, seeking him out. I expected him to be watching the candidate currently on the firing line. He wasn't. Even when a round clipped the edge of a steel target with a loud metallic clang, he never looked away.

His attention stayed locked on Redwood and me. Mirrored aviator sunglasses hid his eyes, but his posture gave him away. His jaw had gone tight and his nostrils flared slightly.

Watching closely.

I turned back to Redwood and smiled sweetly. If Graves wanted to stare, I'd give him something to stare at. I crossed my arms beneath my chest, pushing my breasts up and tilted my head.

"Miles, right?"

His expression brightened immediately.

"There it is," he said. "Knew you'd come around, eventually."

I almost laughed.

"Actually, I just wanted to return the favor."

His grin widened.