📖 The Story Continues
The story doesn't end here.Continue reading the full story adaptation below and discover what happens next.
American Sniper: The Last Round – Episode 15
Nate Foster stepped onto the firing line with the relaxed confidence of a man entering his favorite territory. He reminded the spectators that he had lost an eye and invited them to imagine what he might accomplish with both. The joke drew laughter from Matthew Valentine’s side. Jane’s team remained silent.
Chris Redford inspected the shotgun, confirmed the ammunition, and ordered Nate to load and make ready. Fifteen clay pigeons waited inside the launch system, each programmed to take a different path. Nate settled the stock against his shoulder and lowered his center of gravity. Every trace of mockery disappeared from him once the round began.
The first target launched, and his shotgun fired almost instantly. Orange fragments burst across the range before the next pigeon cleared the machine. Nate swung smoothly from angle to angle, shooting with a rhythm refined through thousands of repetitions. The missing eye appeared to limit nothing.
Carl Oliver watched more than the visible hits. He measured the interval between launches, Nate’s recovery speed, and the slight anticipatory movement revealing where the cowboy expected each target. The performance was excellent within competition standards. Carl stored every detail without allowing admiration to become concern.
Jane counted the shattered pigeons while the timer climbed. Ten targets vanished, then twelve, without a miss. Nate accelerated through the final sequence as though saving his most aggressive rhythm for the end. When silence returned, all fifteen clays had been destroyed.
Chris announced the result: fifteen out of fifteen in just under twenty seconds. Shock spread across Jane’s team. Alex’s old state record seemed irrelevant beside a run approaching national-caliber performance. Even Matthew looked pleased by more than he had expected.
One employee noticed an unused bullet and assumed Nate had forgotten to fire it. Jane saw the truth before anyone explained. During the sequence, Nate had aligned two crossing pigeons and shattered both with a single shotgun blast. He had deliberately saved a round to make the victory more humiliating.
The team questioned whether a B-Class ranking could be genuine. Nate’s performance belonged at A-Class level, particularly under the pressure of a property-deciding contest. Matthew had concealed elite skill beneath a lower official classification. The first opponent truly had been selected to break Jane’s confidence.
Jane realized the demonstration was aimed at Carl as much as the scoreboard. Nate wanted the waiting shooter to believe the target time was untouchable before he ever stepped forward. Psychological pressure ruined accuracy more efficiently than mechanical difficulty. She looked toward Carl for signs that the strategy had worked.
He appeared unchanged. The handguns rested safely at his sides, and his breathing remained even. No boast or display from Nate could recreate the pressures Carl had endured in another life. Yet Jane did not know that history, so his silence offered her little comfort.
Alex declared that Carl had no chance. A professional trap shooter using the proper weapon might struggle to beat twenty seconds; a handyman carrying pistols would be fortunate to hit a single clay. The others agreed, already preparing to blame Jane’s choice. Fear made loyalty disappear quickly.
Nate removed the spare cartridge and walked toward Carl. He called it a souvenir from the day Carl was destroyed, then pressed it toward him with theatrical generosity. The gesture invited the spectators to celebrate the result before the second competitor had fired. Carl accepted the cartridge only to end the performance.
The cowboy leaned closer and suggested Carl could use the round on himself after drowning in shame. The threat crossed from competition into cruelty, drawing an uneasy reaction even from some of Matthew’s men. Carl looked at him without anger. Men who needed humiliation to feel powerful rarely understood the danger of provoking someone who did not.
Rebecca protested from beside Jane, but her mother held her back. This was not a confrontation Carl needed a child to defend. Still, Rebecca’s faith remained visible in her angry expression. Nate had completed an extraordinary run, and she continued to believe Carl would be better.
Chris called for the range to reset. Staff loaded fifteen new clay pigeons while officials verified Carl’s ammunition. The process gave Jane time to regret every decision that led here. Losing the first round would not end the contest, but it would give Matthew match point and fracture her team’s confidence.
She considered asking Carl to switch weapons before the run began. Chris had not yet ordered him to load, and perhaps the rules allowed a final change. A shotgun would at least give him a chance to preserve dignity. The thought felt practical, but it also meant admitting she had never trusted his judgment.
Carl turned the spare cartridge over once, then placed it on the table. Nate expected the insult to occupy his mind; instead, Carl had already dismissed it. His attention moved to the launcher and the paths he had observed. Fifteen targets formed a sequence waiting to be solved.
Matthew congratulated Nate loudly and reminded Jane that her precious range was one round closer to becoming his. He described Carl as the proof of her incompetence. Jane refused to look at her uncle, afraid that her expression would reward him. All she could do was watch the man she had chosen.
Chris completed the reset and faced Carl. The coach’s professional neutrality concealed intense curiosity. No ordinary shooter selected handguns after witnessing a near-A-Class trap run, and no frightened amateur stood with such complete stillness. Chris wondered whether the coming attempt would expose foolishness or confirm the memory he still could not name.
“Carl, you’re up,” Chris announced. Nate stepped away with victory already in his smile, while Jane’s team braced for disaster. Carl crossed the line carrying two handguns and the weight of the entire Valentine legacy. In less than twenty seconds, Jane would learn whether she had chosen a hidden master—or handed her uncle the first victory.
