Page 154 of BounBound By Scars

I didn’t even flinch this time. Just tilted my head up slightly, lips curling beneath the tactical mask.

They hadn’t hit the ground team yet. That was smart. That was Ghost’s tactic.

Hit the eyes first. Blind the beast before you cut its throat.

Dragon was panicking now, trying to get confirmation, barking commands into his mic.

One by one, six snipers went down.

I lowered my rifle slightly and smiled beneath the mask.

It was surgical. Precise. Every shot like a signature.

My team—my fucking team—was here.

And they were tearing through Romano’s outer defenses.

God, I’d missed this.

This wasn’t chaos.

This was art.

But I had a part to play. Fear to perform. Panic to feign.

The first shot from Romano’s side thundered out across the estate. Sloppy. Blind. Miscalculated. Pure retaliation without a target.

I couldn’t stop smiling.

It wasn’t until the final sniper was confirmed down that Dragon completely lost his grip. He started barking orders into everyone’s earpiece, voice jagged, barely coherent. Then the panic spread like wildfire.

Gunfire broke out in bursts. Scattered. Uneven. No one knew where to shoot.

Then—screech.

Two black SUVs tore up the road leading to the mansion, kicking gravel behind them.

I stepped out of the shadows, drawn to the spectacle.

Fuck, but this was exciting.

The SUVs drifted to a perfect halt just inside the outer perimeter, headlights on low beam like they didn’t give a damn about subtlety.

Romano’s ground team didn’t hesitate—they lit the cars up.

Bullets slammed into windshields, tore through side panels, sparked against reinforced bumpers. I fired too, because I had to, but my shots landed wide—harmlessly chewing up grass.

The cars rocked under the impact but didn’t break. Not even a crack in the armor.

Of course.

Fucking Sebastian Blackthorn. I’d missed his obnoxiously indestructible fleet.

Then it happened.

The headlights flickered.

Dimmed.

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