Page 3 of The Sniper

Daniels came into her line of vision, a coil of vibrant red rope in his hands. It was smooth, the kind that glided across the skin without biting too deeply unless he wanted it to. He paused in front of her, his eyes meeting hers. Dark and steady, they held her gaze, speaking words he didn’t need to say aloud.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

Her breath caught. He had asked her that question once before, years ago, in an entirely different context. Back then, she had lied, nodding without truly meaning it. Tonight, there was no room for deception.

“Yes,” she said, and the word felt heavier than she expected.

Daniels nodded once, satisfied. “Good. Then let go.”

He began with her wrists, his hands sure and precise as he worked the rope. The strands slid against her skin, soft but firm, as he wrapped them in intricate patterns, securing her without constricting. He moved methodically, checking in with her through subtle glances and the occasional brush of his fingers. His touch was steady, grounding.

Reyna closed her eyes, letting the sensation wash over her. The pull of the rope, the subtle pressure against her skin, the way her body relaxed with each knot he tied—it was all part of the process. She didn’t have to think, didn’t have to strategize or calculate. Daniels was in control, and for once, that was enough.

“Breathe, Reyna,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Slow and steady.”

She did as he said, her breaths evening out as she focused on the rhythm he set. The room seemed to shrink around them, the outside world fading into nothing. Here, in this space, there were no ops, no betrayals, no ghosts from the past. There was only the feel of the rope, the sound of his voice, and the steady hum of her own heartbeat.

Daniels shifted behind her, guiding her arms into position as he continued his work. He looped the rope across her chest, creating a harness that framed her ribs and crossed just beneath her breasts. The knots were secure but never harsh, each one tied with care. He moved with the precision of an artisan, his focus unshakable.

“You’re holding a lot of stress in your shoulders,” he said, his hands brushing against her back. “Let it go.”

She hadn’t even realized it, but he was right. She was holding on, clinging to the control she had spent a lifetime cultivating. It wasn’t easy to let go—it never had been—but here, with Daniels, she could try. Reyna rolled her shoulders back and released the stiffness.

“Better,” he said, his approval sending a small spark of warmth through her. “You’re doing well.”

She opened her eyes, glancing down at the intricate web of rope now encasing her torso. It was beautiful, an unexpected work of art. But more than that, it felt... freeing. Each knot, each loop, each pull of the rope seemed to strip away a layer of her defenses, leaving only herself behind.

Daniels stepped back, his eyes sweeping over his work before meeting hers again. “You’re ready.”

Her brow furrowed. “Ready for what?”

Instead of answering, he moved to a pulley system on the wall, threading the ends of the rope through the mechanism. “This isn’t just about the rope, Reyna,” he said as he worked. “It’s about letting go of what you can’t control. Trusting yourself. Trusting me.”

Her chest tightened at his words, the truth in them hitting too close to home. She wanted to argue, to push back, but something stopped her. Instead, she watched as he finished securing the ropes to a suspension harness, testing them both before turning back to her.

“Take a deep breath,” he said.

She did, her lungs filling with air as he pulled the rope that ran from the harness through a hard point in the ceiling, gently lifting her slightly off the ground. The sensation was strange at first—floating but supported, suspended yet secure. He waited for her to settle and then raised her off the ground. The knots in her muscles melted away, replaced by a deep, calming stillness.

Daniels stepped closer, his hand brushing against her cheek as he tilted her chin upward. “How do you feel?”

“Light,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Like... everything’s gone.”

“That’s the point,” he said, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “You’ve carried too much for too long. You can let it go now.”

Her eyes stung, but she refused to let the tears fall. Instead, she focused on the warmth in his voice, the steadiness of his presence. She had spent so much of her life fighting—fighting to survive, to prove herself, to stay ahead of the pain. But here, in this moment, there was nothing to fight.

Daniels stayed close, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder as she drifted into the quiet space he had created for her. The room seemed to fade; the edges softening until there wasnothing but the gentle rhythm of her breathing and the steady strength of his touch.

“You’re safe, Reyna,” he said softly, his words wrapping around her like a soft blanket. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

For the first time in years, she believed him. And for the first time in years, she let herself surrender.

CHAPTER TWO

DANIELS

Present Day

---