Page 58 of The Sniper

A figure stood silhouetted against the night—a woman, her stance relaxed, almost mocking.

Artemis.

Reyna’s fingers tightened around the trigger, but Artemis just smirked. “Too slow, sniper.”

Then she vanished into the night.

Daniels swore, his jaw tight as he hauled Hartley toward the exit. “We’ll get her.”

Reyna watched the shadows, hoping he was right.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DANIELS

The ride back to the safe house was suffocating.

Daniels sat in the SUV, his jaw locked, fingers curled so tightly around his knee that they ached. The mission had been something of a disaster.

They had saved Hartley—barely. But Fitz had taken a piece of shrapnel from the explosion and Artemis had played them. Again.

Daniels prided himself on being five steps ahead of any enemy, on controlling the battlefield before the first shot was even fired. But Artemis was different. She moved like a phantom, always anticipating their next move, always slipping through the cracks before they could get their hands around her throat. They needed to figure out who Orion was, how he was connected, and take him out of play—one way or another.

They slid by the hospital and picked up Mitch and Fitz. Anton had returned to the Cerberus safehouse to try and see if he couldn’t get a bead on Artemis and Orion.

And Reyna…

Daniels snorted sharply, barely restraining the surge of frustration rolling through him.

She was going to get herself killed.

He glanced at her in the backseat next to Fitz, her arms crossed, jaw set as she stared out the window. She looked like she was still ready to fight someone—probably him.

She didn’t even flinch when Fitz groaned from the seat beside her.

“You good?” Daniels asked, forcing himself to push his rage down for the moment.

Fitz winced but nodded. “I’ve had worse. Nothing some whiskey won’t fix. JJ will have a fit.”

Mitch, behind the wheel, snorted. “Whiskey and stitches. You Scots are built different.”

Fitz grinned weakly. “Damn right we are.”

The SUV pulled into the safe house garage, the automatic door closing behind them. Daniels was out before the vehicle came to a full stop, opening Fitz’s door and hauling him out carefully. Reyna was on the other side, helping to keep Fitz steady as they got him inside.

Anton was already there, laptop in hand. “Tell me you got something,” Daniels barked.

Anton shook his head. “She’s gone. No trace on traffic cams, nothing on cell pings. If she’s still in the city, she’s a ghost.”

“Orion?”

“Nothing. The guy is also a ghost.”

Daniels clenched his jaw as he helped Fitz into a chair.

Reyna pressed a cloth to Fitz’s shoulder where the explosion had burned through his tactical vest, and he’d been hit by a piece of shrapnel in a vulnerable spot. “We’ll get her,” she murmured.

Daniels heard the promise in her voice. It wasn’t hope—it was certainty.

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