Page 33 of Specter Bred

A second later, steel rang out through the range.

I smiled.

"See? You don't need shooting tips," I said. "You need to learn how to get out of your own way. Your body already knows what to do. Trust the training and let it work. Now try it again."

I leaned back against the wall and watched as she did exactly that.

This time, she followed my advice by taking a slow breath and forcing away the tension. Her eyes drifted closed for a moment as she settled into the rifle, letting muscle memory take over instead of trying to control every movement consciously.

When her eyes opened again, they were sharp and focused. She exhaled. Her finger took up the slack in the trigger. Then a gunshot cracked through the range.

Maeve flinched.

Her shot broke, and the round sailed wide, missing the target completely.

Both our heads snapped toward the source of the sound. It had come from inside the range, from the far end, the last firing stall. The one hidden in the shadows, which we'd both just assumed was empty. Apparently, it wasn't. Someone had been there the entire time, listening to our every word.

"Hello?" Maeve called out.

No one answered.

"Look, if that's you Redwood, stop fucking with us and come out here, asshole!" she yelled.

A shadow moved at the far end, and then someone stepped out of the stall.

Only it wasn't Redwood, or any other ASOG candidate.

It was Instructor Major Nolan Graves.

Chapter 5: Nolan "Grizzly" Graves

It happened again today during drills.

Alec Teller took a training round to the neck. The colored powder burst on impact, splattering across his skin just above the tactical vest.

The sight of it hit me like a punch to the chest.

One second I was standing at Fairfield, watching another routine exercise. The next, something deep inside me cracked open.

My vision blurred around the edges.

The range disappeared.

The shouting.

The recruits.

The instructors.

All of it faded away.

Instead of Teller standing there swearing at the shooter, Reaper was on the ground in front of me. His fatal wound was in the same place.

Blood seeped through Reaper's uniform, dark and thick, spreading across his back and soaking into the dirt beneath him. Desperately trying to stop the bleeding, I pressed my hands against it. Warm blood coated my fingers, and it kept coming despite how hard I applied pressure to the wound.

No matter what I did, it wouldn't stop.

For one awful moment, it felt real again.