Kiss My Revenge The Heiress Strikes Back

Before Elian left, he glanced at Miranda, tugging his lips, his voice softening. "Wifey, why don't you enjoy yourself for a bit?"

Miranda was left speechless. Was he getting a bit too comfortable with that?

Hannah wanted to say something but held her tongue. Sebastian didn't utter a word, but just strode off toward the shooting range.

Watching him leave, Elian finally turned and followed, a cold smile playing on his lips. Once they were out of sight, Hannah found her voice.

"They... they..." she stammered, pointing first at Elian and then at Sebastian. Miranda walked over to the ammo station. "To be honest, I barely know them." Hannah scurried to keep up. "Then why does Mr. Elian Ashcroft call you..."

Miranda cut her off, "He's just got a big mouth."

Hannah was at a loss. Honestly, whether it was in Virell or Zephra, Miranda was probably the only one daring enough to speak of Mr. Elian Ashcroft like that.

In the surveillance room, Timothy couldn't help but give Mr. Ashcroft a thumbs-up as he watched Miranda and Hannah alone on the screen.

"Brilliant," he praised. Truly, the older, the wiser.

Yet, the speed at which Elian appeared was astonishing. Did he fly over here or what? That was just insanely fast.

It was the first time he'd seen Elian and Sebastian bicker like school kids. And to witness this legendary figure acting like this was a sight to behold.

To an outsider, he might seem like just another spoiled rich kid. Who would guess that this rebellious young man had the entire military's most stubborn "hardliners" eating out of his hand, following his every command?

"Mr. Ashcroft, there's something I'd like to say, but I'm not sure if I should."

Mr. Ashcroft replied, "Spit it out."

Timothy hesitated for a second before uttering, "I don't think Mr. Elian Ashcroft is in a pretty good state now."

Mr. Ashcroft shot him a sideways glance. "Then you must not have seen what he was like three years ago."noveldrama

Timothy stayed silent; he hadn't seen Elian three years ago. But he knew that if the higher-ups were willing to let him leave, he must have gone through something unimaginable.

"Before this year, this kid was a real firecracker. In Zephra, anyone who even slightly misstepped and fell into his hands had no good ending," Mr. Ashcroft sighed.

Over the past three years, Elian had almost completely cleaned house in Zephra. Outsiders thought he was just ruthless.

But in reality, most of the people Elian dealt with were involved in shady dealings. And he had the authority to handle them.

Of course, some people who had the misfortune of getting on his bad side might have found themselves on the receiving end of his wrath.

One could say that even a passing stray would get slapped if it crossed his path. "The reason you see him like this now," Mr. Ashcroft continued as he suddenly chuckled, "is because the peacock's showing off its feathers."

Timothy glanced at another screen, showing Elian and Sebastian together. His curiosity piqued. "Does Mr. Elian Ashcroft have a thing for Miranda?"

Mr. Ashcroft pursed his lilps. "What's so strange about that? Look at the Everhart boy. He's the same, isn't he?"

Timothy fell silent, realizing his path to recruitment was going to be quite the uphill battle. So, he quickly went to find Miranda.

Miranda had just finished emptying a magazine and was putting the gun away, waiting for Hannah to wrap up so they could leave.

But as soon as she was done, a series of drumbeats echoed from the

loudspeakers, growing progressively louder and more grandiose.

She glanced over at the other side of the range, where Elian and Sebastian had

gone. So this kind of spectacle wasn't entirely unexpected.

But the other guests had never seen anything like it! They'd heard drumbeats before, sure, but not this frequent and unending kind. It was like an escalating contest between two people, each trying to outdo the

other. n

Yet, no one dared to go watch, because that particular range wasn't open to the public. It was reserved for VIPs of the highest order, and they used live ammunition there!

Nobody wanted to risk it. A stray bullet could send them straight to meet their maker.

Miranda handed a headset to Hannah. "Focus on your own practice."

Hannah snapped back to reality. "Alright."

Miranda began correcting Hannah's posture. "Raise your arms a bit, don't let them go limp. Use some strength. Wrap your hand around the grip, keep your wrist steady, feet shoulder-width apart. Stand firm. Engage your core!"

Although Hannah had been taught by professional coaches at the range, she had always treated it as a game and hadn't taken it seriously. The coaches, seeing them as recreational shooters, hadn't been as strict as Miranda.

Given that the siblings often asked Miranda for help, whenever she had time, she'd offer Hannah a few tips. They'd paid for a membership, after all, and shooting poorly was just a waste of money.

"You're quite the expert, aren't you?" came a man's voice, friendly and relaxed.

Though she hadn't seen him yet, Miranda could tell he meant no harm. She turned her head and saw a man walking towards her.

He was about six-foot-one, somewhere between thirty-five and forty years old. He was well-built, wearing a crisp white shirt tucked into olive green pants, which were tucked into a pair of sturdy combat boots.