Page 21 of The Sniper

Daniels parked his SUV and approached the building, flashing his badge at the uniformed officers stationed at the entrance. Harris met him just inside, his expression grim as he gestured toward the far end of the warehouse.

“Victim’s a male, early forties,” Whitman said, falling into step beside Daniels. “He’s known in the community—goes by the name Titan. Owned a private dungeon out in the suburbs. He had ties to Veda, and there’s another message.”

Daniels clenched his jaw, his mind racing. Two bodies. Two messages. This wasn’t random. It was calculated, deliberate. Someone was sending a message, and they were using the BDSM community as their canvas.

“What’s the message this time?” Daniels asked as they approached the scene.

Harris’s lips thinned, and he nodded toward the ground near the body. “See for yourself.”

Daniels stepped closer, his boots crunching against the debris-strewn floor. The victim lay sprawled on his back, his arms bound behind him with coarse rope. Blood pooled beneath him, a stark crimson against the grime of the concrete floor. But it was the writing that drew Daniels’ attention—the same jagged scrawl as before, written in blood near the body:

Cerber

Had Veda not written the first message? Instead of a warning, was the killer goading them? The letters seemed to taunt him, their crude strokes vibrating with a sense of urgency he couldn’t ignore. Whoever this killer was, they weren’t justleaving clues—they were leaving breadcrumbs to a story Daniels hadn’t yet pieced together.

Daniels crouched beside the body, his gaze sweeping over the scene. Titan’s face was pale, his expression frozen in a mix of fear and pain. There was no mistaking the similarities to Veda’s murder—the same calculated brutality, the same deliberate message. This wasn’t just a warning. It was a declaration.

Whitman shifted uncomfortably behind him. “Medical examiner is on the way, but from what we can tell, he bled out. Same MO as Veda.”

Daniels stood, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “And no one saw anything?”

“Not a damn thing,” Whitman admitted. “The building’s been abandoned for years. No security cameras, no witnesses. Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”

Daniels turned, his gaze scanning the darkened corners of the warehouse. It felt suffocating, the air thick with the residue of violence. Their killer always seemed to be one step ahead, always watching.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at the screen—Reyna. For a moment, he considered ignoring it. He didn’t want to drag her further into this mess, not when it was becoming clear just how dangerous it was. But he knew better than to leave her out of the loop. She’d never forgive him.

“Yeah,” he said, answering the call.

“What’s going on?” Reyna’s voice was sharp, cutting straight to the point. “I heard there’s been another murder.”

Daniels held his breath, his grip tightening around the phone. “We just found the body. Same as Veda. Same message.”

There was a pause, and he could picture her pacing, her mind already working through the implications. “Who?”

“Titan,” Daniels said. “He had ties to Veda. Owned a private dungeon out in the suburbs.”

“Shit,” she muttered, the word heavy with frustration. “I’m coming down there.”

“Reyna...”

“Don’t start,” she interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. “This is my case just as much as it’s yours. I’ll be there in twenty.”

The line went dead before he could respond, leaving Daniels staring at the screen with a mix of frustration and annoyance. He realized that mixture was common in his dealings with Reyna. He slipped the phone back into his pocket, his mind already racing ahead.

Reyna wasn’t going to back down. He knew that. But as the case spiraled deeper into chaos, the gnawing guilt he felt would be harder to keep from the edges of his thoughts. He’d called her in, pulled her into this storm, and now people were dying. The thought of her being next—of her being caught in the crosshairs—was a weight he wasn’t sure he could bear.

Reyna arrived exactly twenty minutes later, stepping out of her black SUV with the kind of purpose that turned heads. Her hair was swept back into its usual spikes, and she was dressed in her standard tactical gear, exuding the air of someone who belonged exactly where she was.

She strode into the warehouse, her gaze cutting through the scene with laser precision. When she reached Daniels, her eyes flicked to the body and the scrawled message before locking onto his.

“Details,” she demanded, shoving her hands into the pockets of her leather motorcycle jacket.

Daniels gestured toward the body. “Other than what I already told you? Nothing. I was just getting ready to call you when you called me.”

Reyna crouched beside the body, her sharp gaze taking in every detail. “They’re escalating,” she said, her voice low. “This isn’t just about Cerberus. It’s about the entire community.”

Daniels nodded, his jaw tightening. “They’re sending a message, but we don’t know who it’s for.”

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