Page 28 of The Sniper

Daniels pressed his back against the cool concrete wall, his Glock held steady in his hand. The night was quiet again, but it was the kind of quiet that preceded chaos. He stole a glance at Reyna crouched beside him, her sharp eyes scanning the empty street beyond the wreckage of the warehouse. She was all sharp edges and unwavering focus, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath.

This wasn’t the first time they’d been ambushed, and Daniels knew it wouldn’t be the last. But something about the near disaster inside the warehouse had struck him harder than he wanted to admit. Knowing Reyna was dragged off into the shadows, hearing the venom laced with fear in her voice as she fought to break free had ripped through him with a ferocity he’d never forget.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low but steady as he glanced at her.

Reyna nodded, though her jaw was tight. “I’m fine. Just bruises.”

Daniels wasn’t convinced. He could see the faint tremor in her fingers as she adjusted her grip on her weapon. She wasn’t rattled often, but this had come too close. And that fact was settling in his chest like a live grenade.

“Reyna, look at me,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended.

Her head snapped toward him, her brow furrowing. “I said I’m fine, Daniels. You don’t have to babysit me.”

“This isn’t about babysitting,” he snapped back, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “You scared the hell out of me back there.”

She blinked, the irritation in her expression faltering. “I handled it.”

“Barely,” Daniels bit out, his grip tightening on the Glock at his side. “Do you even realize what could’ve happened if I hadn’t gotten to you in time?”

Her shoulders stiffened, and for a moment, he thought she was going to tell him off. But instead, she let out a slow breath, her gaze softening just enough to unnerve him. “I know what could’ve happened. I was there, remember?”

Daniels felt his chest constrict. She was always like this—tough, deflective, unwilling to let anyone see the cracks in her armor. But he saw them. He always saw them. And every time she threw herself into the fire, she took a piece of him with her.

“Reyna,” he said, his voice low and rough. “This isn’t just about the job anymore. You know that, don’t you?”

Her lips parted, and for a split second, he saw something flicker in her eyes—vulnerability, maybe, or a hesitation she rarely allowed herself. But before she could respond, a faint sound caught both their attention.

“Stay here,” he ordered, moving toward the sound before she could argue.

“Like hell,” Reyna muttered, falling into step behind him.

They moved as one, their footsteps nearly silent on the damp pavement. The glow of the flames from the warehouse cast eerie shadows across the ground, and as they rounded the corner, Daniels froze. There, illuminated by the flickering light, was astark message scrawled on the wall in what looked like black spray paint.

You’re too late.

The words sent a chill down his spine, and he felt Reyna step closer, her breath catching as she read the message.

“Sonofabitch,” she muttered. “They knew we’d come.”

Daniels didn’t respond. His mind was already racing, analyzing the scene, looking for anything that might give them a clue. The spray paint was fresh, the edges of the letters still dripping down the wall under the light. Whoever had left it had been here minutes ago—maybe even seconds.

“They’re playing with us,” Reyna said, her voice tight with frustration. “Taunting us.”

“Or warning us,” Daniels said grimly, his gaze sweeping over the area. “This wasn’t just an ambush. It was another message.”

Reyna’s jaw clenched, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “One more piece of the puzzle, Daniels. One more piece of the puzzle.”

Before Daniels could respond, a faint vibration buzzed against his hip. He pulled his phone from his pocket, the screen glowing with an incoming message. It wasn’t from the Bureau or Cerberus, but an unknown number. His gut twisted as he opened it.

A photo.

It was blurry, but the image was unmistakable: a snapshot of Reyna fighting one of her attackers inside the warehouse. The angle was wrong—high up, like it had been taken from the rafters. Someone had been watching them.

“What is it?” Reyna asked, stepping closer.

Daniels turned the phone toward her, his expression grim. “They were inside with us.”

Her eyes widened as she stared at the photo. “How the hell?—?”

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