?Chapter 373:


    He expected at least a flicker of nerves—fifty rings was no small feat. But Freya looked calm. Unbothered. As if what she’d just seen meant nothing.


    She raised her gun and pulled the trigger.


    Bam! The shot sliced clean through the air,nding straight in the bull’s-eye.


    The staff member beside her dropped his stoic mask, blurting, “Holy… Ten rings.”


    Was she really new to this?


    Mack and Kristian were equally stunned.


    Mack had assumed she might have natural talent, but hitting a bull’s-eye on her first shot?


    Kristian, meanwhile, was quietly reevaluating everything he thought he knew about her—first the cards, now this. Just how many secrets did Freya keep tucked away?


    Before the shock wore off, Freya fired four more shots—each one dead center.


    “Is this really your first time?” the staff member asked, clearly impressed.


    At fifty meters,nding ten rings was child’s y for him—every pro at the club could pull it off without breaking a sweat.


    But wasn’t this young woman supposed to be a total novice?


    “I’ve shot before,” Freya answered, cool and collected. “But it’s been a while.”


    “Kristian, looks like your ex-wife’s got quite the skill set,” Mack joked, thoroughly impressed. “Beating her might not be so easy.”


    Kristian’s brow furrowed slightly, instinctively rejecting the term “ex-wife.”


    Freya nced toward the outdoor range and then back at him, proposing, “How about three hundred meters straight, one shot to settle it?”


    Mack blinked in shock.


    Don’t miss it: g?lиov???.cоm


    Kristian, too, appeared momentarily caught off guard.


    Seeing his silence, Mack turned to Freya. He genuinely feared for her. Three hundred meters was no joke—nowhere near the same as fifty.


    “Maybe start with a hundred meters? Three hundred’s quite the jump,” Mack offered gently. “If you’re not used to that range, it’s easy to miss altogether.”


    He was trying to be realistic.


    At a hundred meters, Freya might stand a chance.


    If Kristian made even the tiniest error, she could take the win.


    “That’s unnecessary. Three hundred meters,” Freya said firmly, her voice even, her gaze steady as it settled on Kristian, waiting.


    “Why are you so stubborn?” Mack asked, the hope in his eyes unmistakable. “Just trust me on this—start with a hundred meters first.”


    Freya said nothing. Her gaze, unwavering and sharp, was fixed on Kristian. She was waiting—for him to speak, to decide.


    If he chose a hundred meters, she’d match him step for step. But if he insisted on three hundred, she wouldn’t back down.


    “Shooting at three hundred meters is a different beast altogetherpared to fifty,” Kristian finally said after a thoughtful pause. “Are you sure you want to jump straight into a three-hundred-meter shootout with me?”


    “I’m sure,” Freya replied, steady as ever.


    “Alright then.” Kristian nodded in agreement.


    .


    .


    .