Chapter 8
Juliette's icy declaration froze the air in the room.
Blair swallowed hard, her throat dry. She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white. "Start the timer!" she snapped at the officer.
The officer wiped sweat from his forehead. He raised his hand. "Begin!"
The word had barely left his mouth before Juliette's arm snapped up.
There was no hesitation. No long, drawn-out aiming process.
Bang.
The screen flashed instantly. 10.9.
A collective gasp sucked the oxygen out of the room.
Juliette didn't lower the gun. Her thumb flicked the hammer back in a blur of motion. Her eyes never left the target.
Bang.
10.8.
Bang.
10.9.
Bang.
10.7.
Juliette turned into a machine. The rhythm of her shots was terrifyingly fast, exactly 1.5 seconds apart. Her body absorbed the recoil perfectly, her arm remaining as steady as a concrete pillar.
Ten bullets tore through the air in less than twenty seconds.
The final shot echoed through the bay.
The electronic screen calculated the total. The massive number glowed brightly against the dark wall.
108.5.
It was a score that would shatter the national amateur championship record. It was total, undeniable annihilation.
Juliette smoothly dropped the empty magazine into her palm. She placed the pistol heavily onto the wooden table. The dull thud echoed in the dead silence.
She turned around. She looked down at Blair.
"Does that score count?" Juliette asked, her voice perfectly flat.
Blair's knees buckled.
She collapsed onto the hard concrete floor. Her perfectly styled hair fell into her face. Her chest he heave as she stared at the glowing numbers, her brain unable to process the humiliation.
Sierra backed away slowly, terrified to even stand near Blair, completely intimidated by the suffocating pressure radiating from Juliette.
Gregory leaped onto the leather sofa, pumping both fists in the air. "Holy shit! You are the queen of the range!"
Phoebe burst into tears. She ran forward and threw her arms around Juliette's neck. "I knew it! I knew you were a badass! We are eating steak tonight!"
Juliette patted Phoebe's back gently, then pushed her away.
She walked slowly toward Blair, stopping right in front of her. She looked down at the trembling girl.
"A pallet of premium experimental fertilizer," Juliette said coldly. "Delivered to the agriculture greenhouse by Monday morning. Don't forget."
Blair bit her lip so hard it bled. Tears of pure humiliation spilled down her cheeks. She couldn't speak. She just gave a jerky, pathetic nod.
Satisfied, Juliette's cold aura vanished instantly. She rolled her shoulders and rubbed her right wrist, wincing slightly at the unfamiliar muscle strain.
She turned her head and looked to the back of the crowd.
Adrian was standing exactly where she left him. His dark eyes were tracking her every move. The intensity in his gaze was heavy enough to crush coal into diamonds.
The crowd immediately scrambled out of Juliette's way, parting to create a clear path between her and Adrian. Nobody dared to breathe the word 'dirt-girl' ever again.
Juliette walked up to him. She tilted her head back to look at his face. Her eyes were bright, shining with the pure joy of a successful harvest.
She held out her right hand, palm up.
"Three weekends," Juliette demanded, her tone completely factual. "Seventy-two hours of potato data."
Adrian looked down at her outstretched hand. A deep, rumbling laugh started in his chest and vibrated through his throat.
He reached out. His massive hand completely engulfed hers. He squeezed her fingers gently.
He leaned down, his voice thick with a dark, possessive affection for everyone to hear.
"As you wish, my queen."
You may also like
