Page 47 of The Sniper

Reyna adjusted the sling of her rifle as she stepped out of the SUV into the thick, humid night. The warehouse loomed ahead,an ominous monolith against the darkened sky, the scent of sweat, machines and rust hanging in the air. It was the kind of place where bad deals were made, bodies disappeared, and secrets were buried—sometimes literally.

Beside her, Daniels scanned the perimeter, his gaze sharp and assessing. He wasn’t just looking—he was calculating. Planning. That sharp tactical mind of his was already twenty steps ahead, and for once, Reyna found that comforting rather than infuriating.

Fitz’s voice cut through the comms. “Reyna, you’re in the rafters. We need a set of eyes up high.”

She didn’t argue. Fitz rarely gave orders unless he was dead serious. If he wanted her on overwatch, it meant he had a reason.

“On it,” she murmured, already moving toward the rusted-out ladder on the side of the warehouse. The metal groaned under her weight, but she climbed steadily, keeping her profile low as she slipped into the shadows.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

REYNA

Below, the team breached the entrance, their weapons at the ready. The massive sliding door had been left slightly ajar—an invitation or a trap, it was impossible to say.

Reyna perched herself along a narrow catwalk running across the ceiling, balancing carefully as she slowly assembled her rifle. The Desert Tech SRS A2 Covert came together with practiced efficiency, each click of a component settling into place, keeping her present in the moment.

Through the scope, she swept the space below.

The interior was worse than she expected—old crates and rusted machinery, flickering fluorescent lights that barely illuminated the cavernous space. A single wooden table sat in the center of the room, littered with documents, burner phones, and what looked like a laptop still powered on.

Bingo.

Daniels, Fitz, Mitch, and Anton moved in, spreading out as they cleared the space. Their footsteps echoed off the high ceiling, the tension humming between them.

Daniels reached the table first, sifting through the scattered files. His posture went rigid. “We’ve got names.”

Reyna adjusted her position, keeping her rifle trained on the entrance. “Anyone we recognize?”

Daniels didn’t answer immediately. Then, he cursed under his breath.

“What?” Fitz demanded.

Daniels turned the page, his jaw tightening. “She was building dossiers. Not just on Rowe, not just on Hartley. Oneveryoneconnected to the underground auctions.”

Mitch leaned over his shoulder. “This isn’t just a kill list. This is an entire network.”

Anton whistled low. “Whoever Artemis is, she wasn’t just hunting targets—she was planning something bigger.”

Reyna adjusted her scope, sweeping the space again, her gut twisting. Something felt… off.

The way the papers were arranged. The way the door had been left ajar. It was too easy.

She pressed her earpiece. “I don’t like this. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Agreed,” said Fitz. “We move fast. Take what we need and get the hell out.”

That was all the confirmation she needed. She started disassembling her rifle, preparing to make her way down when?—

The hair on the back of her neck stood up—she wasn’t alone.

The realization hit her a second before a hand clamped over her mouth.

Adrenaline surged through her system as she lashed out, slamming her elbow back into her attacker’s ribs. The grip faltered just enough for her to break free, twisting as she turned to face the threat.

A woman stood before her, dressed in tactical black, a knife glinting in her right hand. Her presence was impossibly silent, her movements fluid—too fluid for someone untrained.

Reyna’s stomach dropped. Artemis.

---