Page 74 of The Sniper

Because whatever came next, I wasn’t running anymore.

I was listening.

20

NOAH

Idrove Hallie Mae to Dominion Hall, the truck’s engine growling low, cutting through the dusk like a scythe.

Her demand for the truth—Department 77, her dad, all of it—had shifted something between us, cracked open a door I couldn’t close.

No more shadows, no more half-truths—she’d see the blood on my hands, and I’d bleed to keep her trust.

She sat beside me, hands knotted in her lap, eyes sharp, slicing through the fading light like she was ready for war.

I didn’t know how to lay it all bare—how deep the rot went, how my name was tangled in her pain—but I’d promised, and I’d rather die than break that vow.

Dominion Hall loomed ahead, dark and powerful, its steel gates parting as we rolled up. For once it felt like home.

I parked, killed the engine, and turned to her. “Ready?”

She nodded, jaw tight. “Let’s do it.”

I led her inside, past reinforced doors, the hum of surveillance cams tracking us like ghosts.

The air was heavy—cedar, gun oil, a faint bite of whiskey from nights when we planned our own wars.

Ryker and Atlas waited in the war room, a concrete bunker buried deep, monitors glowing, maps pinned like battle scars on the walls.

Ryker stood, arms crossed, eyes narrowing as Hallie Mae stepped in behind me.

Atlas sat, silent, his bulk steady, but his gaze flicked to her, weighing her presence.

“The fuck is she doing here?” Ryker snapped, voice low, like she wasn’t right there.

“She’s got every right,” I said, stepping forward, voice hard.

Ryker’s jaw clenched, glare cutting between us. “Authorities’ll know she’s here. You want feds crawling up our ass? We’re already skating thin ice.”

“She stays,” I said, no give. “They dragged her family into this. She gets a say.”

He leaned in, voice dropping. “You’re thinking with your cock, Noah. This risks everything—her included.”

I bristled, fists tightening, but Hallie Mae’s hand brushed my arm—light, grounding.

“She’s not wrong to want answers,” Atlas said, voice calm, heavy. “But Ryker’s right about heat.”

I nodded, grateful for the balance. “She’s part of this now.”

Ryker exhaled, sharp, but backed off. “Fine. But you better know what you’re doing. One fuckup, and it’s cops, feds, 77—the whole goddamn alphabet.”

“Noted,” I said, holding his stare until he looked away.

Atlas leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Hermom’s out there. Exposed. We should put eyes on her—maybe a team if it escalates.”

“Good call,” I said, glancing at Hallie Mae.

Her eyes softened, gratitude flickering. “Thank you,” she whispered, firm but low.

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