Page 16 of The Sniper

Her jaw worked, as if she was weighing her response, but in the end, she just nodded. It wasn’t an agreement for help, not really, but it was enough for now.

Daniels shifted the vehicle into gear, his focus returning to the road ahead. The night wasn’t over, and the fight was far from finished. Whoever was behind this wasn’t just watching—they were planning. And Daniels wasn’t about to let them get the upper hand.

Not while Reyna’s life was on the line. Not while she was his to protect, whether she wanted to be or not.

The club downstairs was alive with music and energy, but the Cerberus offices above it were quiet, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights and the sound of running water from the small wet bar sink at the back of the conference room. Daniels stood by the counter, wringing out a cloth before heading back to the worn couch where Reyna sat, her leg stretched out in front of her. Her stockings were torn just above the knee, and stained dark with blood. She’d insisted she was fine, but the grim set of her jaw told a different story.

“You need to stop moving,” Daniels said, his tone low but firm as he knelt in front of her, enlarging the tear.

“I’m fine,” Reyna replied, though the hiss of pain that escaped her lips when he dabbed at the gash said otherwise.

“Fine doesn’t bleed like this,” Daniels countered, not bothering to hide the edge in his voice. He worked carefully, cleaning the wound with steady hands. The cut was deep, but not deep enough to require stitches. Still, seeing her blood, feeling her wince under his touch—it was enough to stir something primal inside him. Something protective. Something he didn’t want to name.

Reyna leaned back against the couch, her head tilting slightly as she watched him. “You always this gentle, or am I just special?”

Daniels glanced up, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “You’re special, all right. Special enough to make me question my sanity.”

A hint of a grin tugged at the corner of her lips, but it faded quickly. She shifted, her fingers brushing against the edge of the couch as if she needed something to hold onto. “You don’t have to do this. I’ve patched myself up plenty of times.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Daniels said, his voice softer now. He wrung out the cloth again and set it aside before reaching for the bandages. “You keep acting like you’re alone, but you’re not.”

Reyna didn’t respond, her gaze dropping to the floor. The silence between them was heavy, charged with unspoken words neither of them were willing to speak.

Daniels cleared his throat, focusing on wrapping the bandage around her leg. The act was methodical, but his mind drifted back to the first time they’d worked together. Back to a mission that had tested every ounce of trust he’d had in her.

It had been five years ago, in a small village on the outskirts of Bogotá. The target was a high-ranking member of a cartel who’d been using the area as a hub for smuggling weapons. It was supposed to be a simple extraction—get in, grab the target, and get out. But things had gone sideways fast.

Daniels had been pinned down in a crumbling shack, the sound of gunfire echoing through the narrow streets. His team had been scattered, and the extraction point was a pipe dream. Then Reyna had shown up, a knife in one hand and a sidearm in the other, her expression calm despite the chaos around her.

“You look like you could use some help,” she’d said, her voice carrying over the noise.

“You’re late,” Daniels had shot back, though relief had surged through him at the sight of her.

“Had to make an entrance,” she’d replied, firing off two quick shots and taking down the men blocking their path.

She’d moved like a shadow, her body fluid and precise as she cleared a path for them to escape. But it wasn’t until they’d reached the rendezvous point, bloody and breathless, that Daniels had realized just how much he’d trusted her. Trusted her to watch his back. Trusted her to get them out alive.

“Not bad,” he’d said as they boarded the extraction vehicle.

Reyna had raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. “You sound surprised.”

“Not surprised,” Daniels had replied, his voice steady. “Just impressed.”

She’d tilted her head, a small flicker of something passing through her eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

He’d laughed then, a rare sound, and for the first time, he’d realized just how dangerous she was—not because of her skill, but because of the way she made him feel. Like she was the only person he could count on. Like she was the only person who saw him for who he really was.

“You’re quiet,” Reyna said, pulling Daniels back to the present. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, and it caught him off guard.

“Just thinking,” he replied, securing the last of the bandage. He sat back on his heels, his gaze meeting hers. “About Bogotá.”

Reyna tilted her head, her lips curving slightly. “That was a mess.”

“It was,” Daniels agreed. “But we made it out. Because you had my back.”

Her smile faded, replaced by something softer, something vulnerable. “And you had mine.”

A palpable tension hung in the air, a silent hum that vibrated between them, thick and suffocating. Daniels stood slowly, his eyes never leaving hers as he reached for her hand. She let him take it, her fingers cool against his palm. It was a small gesture, but it felt monumental.

---