A Dead End

Cleo swallowed the dry lump in her throat. She kept her gaze steady on the silver needles still vibrating slightly in the dummy's synthetic skin. "Even if I practiced without sleep or food for a year straight, I wouldn't match his speed. Or his accuracy."

Beatrix's expression remained unreadable. "And?"

"But," Cleo continued, forcing her voice to stay even, "if we set those two factors aside for