Page 50 of The Sniper

“I don’t know if you are or not,” Artemis’s laughter was sharp and cold, "but you will be."

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Do you know what the best revenge is, Reyna?"

Reyna remained silent, letting Artemis have her moment.

"You don’t just go after the soldiers," Artemis murmured. "You take out the generals."

Artemis grinned, a slow wicked thing, and a spike of fear stabbed through Reyna's gut. She knew what Artemis was saying before the words even left her lips.

"You’re not his weakness," Artemis continued, standing to her full height. "Oh, he cares about you, but not the way he does about them. The ones he swore to protect above all else."

Reyna’s blood ran cold—those they hadn’t been able to save.

Artemis tilted her head, mockingly thoughtful. "What was it Daniels said? That this wasn’t over?" She smiled. "He was right."

The door to the warehouse groaned as it opened. Artemis didn’t look back.

"I’ve enjoyed our little chat," she said, backing toward the exit. "But I have work to do."

Reyna twisted violently in her chair, the pain of the rope cutting into her wrists nothing compared to the sheer panic clawing at her insides.

"You won’t make it out of this alive," Reyna hissed.

Artemis met her gaze, utterly unshaken. "I don’t plan to."

Then she was gone.

Reyna’s breathing came fast and shallow, her pulse hammering in her ears. She yanked harder against the ropes, ignoring the burn, the blood trickling down her skin and felt them beginning to loosen.

She had to get out. Had to warn Fitz, Daniels and Archer—the man who was heading up Cerberus’ human trafficking team. Because Artemis wasn’t just after them. She was after every single person she held responsible for her sister’s abduction.

Artemis was after people Reyna loved, and Reyna would burn the entire world down before she let her have them.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

DANIELS

The clock was moving too damn fast. Every second that passed without Reyna in his sight was another second too long.

Daniels stood in the Cerberus war room, his jaw clenched so tight he could feel the pulse in his temple. The glow from the monitors cast harsh shadows across the space, reflecting the urgency hanging in the air. Mitch and Anton were working at a breakneck pace. Their fingers flying over keyboards, searching for any lead that would tell them where the hell Artemis had taken Reyna while Fitz and Daniels paced the room.

“She’s somewhere on the south side,” Anton muttered, his voice tight with frustration. “Last known signal from her tracker pinged an abandoned industrial sector before it went dark.”

Daniels inhaled slowly, his fists flexing at his sides. The tracker had been disabled. Artemis wasn’t just good—she was damn near surgical. But there was always something, always a trail.

“We got something.” Mitch straightened from his laptop, shoving his chair back as he turned the screen toward them. A grainy overhead satellite image of an old shipping yard filled the monitor. “Artemis had to use a vehicle to get Reyna out. Trafficcams picked up a blacked-out van turning off I-90 onto an access road near the waterfront. It hasn’t come back out.”

Daniels’s eyes locked onto the screen. “That’s our location.”

Fitz was already moving, grabbing his rifle and checking his gear. “We roll now.”

Daniels didn’t hesitate. He was already strapping on his sidearm and securing extra magazines. “Anton, keep eyes on the location. If they move before we get there, I want to know.”

“On it.”

Mitch grabbed his own gun—there would be rifles and other arms in the SUV—and nodded toward Daniels. “This is a surgical strike. We go in fast, take out anything that moves, and get Reyna the hell out.”

Daniels locked eyes with him. Nothing was more important than getting her out alive.

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