Page 37 of The Sniper

Daniels narrowed his eyes. “Who?”

Winkie swallowed hard. “A whistleblower. Someone who knew too much about what Veda had been doing. They think this person has records. Files. Proof.”

Daniels exchanged another look with Reyna, his pulse kicking up.

Sebastian Rowe.

Reyna stood so fast her chair scraped against the floor. “We need to move.”

Daniels didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his phone, already dialing. “Fitz, we have a name. Sebastian Rowe. We went by his place earlier in the day and he wasn’t there. His office had been ransacked. We need to find him.”

Reyna turned back to Winkie, her expression stone cold. “If you’re lying, I’ll be back.”

Winkie didn’t argue.

Daniels followed Reyna out of the room, his stride matching hers as they moved with urgency.

They were running out of time.

If Artemis was after Sebastian, it meant one thing—he had something she wanted. And if they didn’t get to him first, he’d be dead by sunrise.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

REYNA

Reyna, Daniels, Anton, and the IT group at Cerberus were able to track down the two most likely places Rowe might be found. Splitting into two groups—she and Daniels, Fitz and Anton—they headed out.

The night air was thick and heavy with anticipation, the kind of charged silence that came before a storm. The sprawling estate, secluded and on the edge of the city, pulsed with an undercurrent of seduction and secrecy. From the outside, it looked like any other grand mansion—elegant and tasteful, the kind of place where the ultra-wealthy came to indulge in sins they wouldn’t dare speak of in daylight. But inside, it was something else entirely.

This was no ordinary high-profile gathering. It was aparty, yes, but one where the rules of society blurred into something darker. Every guest here had something to lose if their secrets came to light. And tonight, one of them was marked for death.

Reyna adjusted the drape of her deep burgundy dress in the passenger seat of the sleek, black SUV, checking the way the fabric flowed around her thighs. The material was soft, liquid against her skin, cut to skim over her curves while leaving the back nearly bare, the hem stopping just above her ankles. Butthe real brilliance of the design lay beneath—the built-in harness concealed within the folds of the dress, securing the dismantled Desert Tech SRS A2 Covert. It might have felt clunky, but when she’d checked in the mirror before leaving, nothing had looked out of place.

It wasn’t perfect. If someone patted her down, they’d find something. But most people would be too distracted by the plunging neckline and slit in the skirt to look twice.

Daniels glanced over from the driver’s seat, his dark gaze sweeping over her in approval. “Remind me to send a thank-you to whoever designed that dress.”

Reyna arched an eyebrow. “If this goes sideways, remind me to shoot them first. This isn’t exactly comfortable.”

His mouth twitched, but his focus was already shifting. The estate loomed ahead, bathed in golden light, the sounds of classical music and soft laughter spilling into the night. Wealth and decadence dripped from every surface. This was the kind of place where people thought their money could protect them. She and Daniels were about to prove otherwise.

“Rowe should be inside,” Daniels murmured as they pulled into the circular drive, the valet already moving to open her door. “You get into position. I’ll do the talking.”

Reyna stepped out, gracefully smoothing her dress as she scanned the scene. No weapons visible, but that didn’t mean anything.

She shot Daniels a quick glance. “Try not to get yourself killed before I’m in place.”

His lips curled in a slow, dark promise. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

With that, they split.

Reyna moved through the party like she belonged, greeting passing guests with a slight nod but keeping her focus ahead. She slipped into the main house, weaving past servants andsecurity, moving toward the study she’d mapped out earlier—a second-floor room with a clear vantage point of the party below.

Once inside, she closed the door and sighed. The room smelled of leather and aged wood, dimly lit by the city lights outside.

She didn’t waste time.

Carefully, she reached behind her, finding the hidden clasps in her dress and undoing them with practiced ease. The Desert Tech SRS A2 Covert slid free from the harness in pieces. She laid it out on the polished mahogany desk, her fingers working quickly to assemble the suppressed sniper rifle with muscle memory alone.

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