Page 54 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost (Nightfall Syndicate #2)

thirty-seven

Asher

T he crosshairs settle on the eastern entrance as I exhale slowly, the rhythm of my breath measured against the light patter of drizzle on my position.

I love you.

Her words pierce my concentration like a round through armor. I blink them away, refocusing on the scope.

"Frost in position. Visibility at 89%. Wind at 3 knots northwest." My voice comes out flat, stripped of the turbulence swirling beneath my controlled exterior.

I scan methodically across each team position, confirming placement. Cole at the northeast corner. Jax covering the service entrance. Kade near the main approach in the unmarked vehicle. Everything in perfect alignment except the echo of Vanessa's words hammering against my skull.

The bipod of my rifle sits rock-steady on the concrete lip of the rooftop, my breathing so shallow it barely disturbs the crosshairs. Years of training center my mind, but her face keeps floating into view—the raw vulnerability when she said those words and the silence that followed.

Static pops through my comms.

"Echo systems online. Facial recognition tracking active. Security feeds looping on my mark in three, two—" Vanessa's voice comes through, slightly too quick, the way it does when she's nervous or excited.

My chest tightens involuntarily. Something primitive inside me wants to abandon position, find her in the surveillance van, protect her after what happened at the gala.

Instead, I adjust my scope a fraction of a millimeter, compensating for the increasing precipitation.

"Confirmed, Echo. Maintain current position."

The mission parameters crystalize in my mind: observe, protect, eliminate threats if necessary. The calculations stay clear in my head, but her confession hits different, heavier than anything I can measure or solve.

"Ghost confirming target vehicle approaching from the eastern entrance. All units maintain position." Kade's voice cuts cleanly through the comm channel.

"Frost, you have overwatch authority."

My finger moves to the trigger, muscle memory taking over as emotion retreats behind the clarity of the scope.

A gust of wind drives the rain against the side of the building, the tempo increasing against the metal vents beside me. I reassess wind variables. 4.1 knots now, slight westerly shift. The precipitation thickens the air, limiting visibility to roughly 81%.

"Be advised, weather degrading. Still operational."

I twist the focus ring on my scope, sharpening the entrance area.

Through the crosshairs, the sleek black Bentley rolls to a stop. Right on schedule. The vehicle gleams despite the rain, water beading off its polished surface like it's rejecting even the weather's intrusion.

"Target vehicle arrived."

My breathing slows automatically, each inhale measured against my heartbeat.

Vanessa's voice fills my earpiece, rapid and exact. "Camera loop engaged. You've got seven minutes before their backup system kicks in."

Her tone is all business, but I catch the subtle vibration beneath her words. The sound pulls at something in my chest. She's holding it together, but I can hear the strain she's carrying.

Does she regret saying it? Regret my silence?

I push the thought away, concentrating on the driver's door as it opens. Tatiana emerges, platinum hair perfectly styled despite the weather. Her movements are fluid, each step deliberate as her security detail forms around her.

"Target has three security personnel. Primary carries left side holster, secondary right ankle. Third looks civilian, but stance suggests combat training."

My assessment flows automatically as I track each figure, mapping threat levels and optimal neutralization sequences if needed.

Then he appears.

Slate.

His lanky frame moves toward Tatiana, laptop bag clutched against his chest. Even through the scope, nervous energy radiates from his movements, the way his eyes dart around.

My trigger finger twitches involuntarily, the pressure increasing slightly against the metal.

The man who gave Tatiana the tools to hurt Vanessa. Who built the systems that nearly killed her.

Variables shift in my mind, measuring the distance, accounting for wind and rain. A clean shot would be simple. Ethical complications aside, eliminating Slate would remove a significant technical asset from Tatiana's operation—

"Frost, I'm reading elevated heart rate," Cole says through comms. "Everything okay at your position?"

The question snaps me back, my breathing pattern correcting instantly.

"Position secure." I force my finger to relax against the trigger guard. "Continuing surveillance."

"Slate identified with three cases, entering the north corridor."

My breathing slows to match my heartbeat as I track their movements through the scope. Rain slides down the back of my neck, but I remain perfectly still.

"Target at twelve o'clock, forty-seven meters from the entry point."

Slate walks too close to Tatiana, his body language broadcasting anxiety. Amateur. If his stress is visible through a scope in the rain, her security team certainly notices it too.

Kade's voice comes through the comm. "Moving to intercept position. Three minutes until window."

I adjust my scope, tracking Kade's progress as he approaches from the east entrance, his movements blending perfectly with the maintenance staff. His cover is flawless—clipboard in hand, uniform meticulous, gait casual yet purposeful.

That's why he's Ghost.

Something changes in Tatiana's posture. She pauses, her head turning toward the west wing. Security immediately tightens formation.

"Target changing direction."

I compute the new trajectory.

"Moving toward secure corridor B instead of conference room."

My finger hovers near the trigger, not touching, but ready.

Through my earpiece, I hear Vanessa's breath catch. Keyboard clicks speed up.

"She's made us," I report, voice cold as ice.

The rain intensifies, requiring a micro-adjustment to my scope settings.

Vanessa's typing sounds frantic through comms. "Rerouting security protocols. Need forty seconds."

A bead of water traces down my scope. I wipe it away with economical movement, never losing sight of the target.

Slate breaks from character, moving quickly to intercept Tatiana. I adjust my directional mic, capturing their exchange with crystal clarity despite the rain.

"I need to show you those new encryption protocols before your flight—I mean, these firewalls aren't gonna build themselves, right?" Slate's voice is higher than normal but injecting enough techy confidence to pause Tatiana's retreat.

Her security detail doesn't relax. The primary guard's hand slides toward his holster. A Glock 19, easily accessible with a tactical shoulder rig.

I map three possible shots, factoring in the increasing rainfall, the 12-degree angle from my position to the courtyard, and the 4.7-knot crosswind. My breathing slows further until each exhale barely registers.

"Diversion failing. Primary security moving to defensive position."

I note the guard's fingers brushing his weapon.

"Contingency Charlie required." I keep my voice level despite the escalating threat. "Blade, prepare for system override on my mark."

"Copy that, Frost," Cole responds. "Systems prepped for override."

Tatiana's security reach for his weapon, the calculation already complete in my mind.

The world narrows to my scope as I inhale a controlled breath. Rain trickles down my face, but I don't blink. The mathematics transforms to instinct—distance, wind, angle, precipitation—all variables solving themselves in the quiet corner of my mind reserved for the perfect shot.

"Taking the shot."

I exhale halfway and squeeze. The rifle's recoil is minimal, absorbed by my balanced stance. Through the scope, I watch the security guard's shoulder jerk backward as my round finds its target—exactly where I intended. Clean through soft tissue, avoiding arteries, incapacitating without killing.

Before anyone can react, I adjust my aim fractionally upward.

Second shot fires. The overhead lights shatter, plunging the courtyard into shadow and confusion.

"Lights out."

I change position, each movement smooth and calculated. The rain creates a silver curtain through my night vision, target signatures glowing against the darkness.

"Moving in." Kade's voice is as calm as death.

I track his approach through my scope. A shadow among shadows, closing distance with Tatiana while her security stumbles in confusion.

Jax's voice cuts through comms, engine noise in the background. "Getaway prepped and purring. South exit route compromised, police response detected."

"Need ten seconds," Cole adds, his measured tone betraying nothing of the pressure. "Security systems rerouting."

Through my scope, I catch unexpected movement. Slate grabs Tatiana's arm, pulling her away from her wounded guard. His movements have a smoothness I hadn't anticipated—not panicked civilian motions but controlled redirection.

"Slate is moving target east corridor."

I reposition for a better angle.

"Appears to be blocking her escape while pretending to protect."

Vanessa's rapid typing provides background rhythm through comms. "Security protocols breached, alarm systems neutralized, but backup generator activating in forty seconds."

Her conviction in her voice sends an unexpected wave of pride through me, despite the lingering weakness from her recovery.

"Confirmed kill." Damian's deep voice rumbles through comms. "East corridor intercepted. I have visual."

"Area secure for extraction," Remy adds, his usual calm professionalism evident despite the excitement. "Chaos, need that distraction now."

"Happy to oblige," Xander responds with barely contained enthusiasm.

A muffled boom shakes the building's west wing, followed by sprinklers activating.

"Oops. Might've overdone that one."

I settle into my new position, scope finding Kade's approach. The rain intensifies, requiring another adjustment. My breathing slows, mind absolutely clear. This razor-sharp awareness, it's what I live for. The only other time I feel this level of control is when I'm with Vanessa—

No. Concentrate.

"Primary target secured," Kade reports as he zip-ties Tatiana's wrists through my scope. "Extraction route compromised. Need alternate exit strategy immediately."

"We have company, northeast entrance. Additional security, four men, tactically equipped."

I track them through my scope, the assessment automatic. Distance. Wind speed. Rain trajectory. Angle of fire.

"Appears they've detected primary breach."

My finger touches the trigger, identifying optimal kill shots for each threat. Four targets, four shots. Simple math. Beyond the facility perimeter, the flashing red and blue lights of police vehicles reflect off the wet pavement, announcing their arrival.

The rain intensifies, sliding down my neck as I maintain position. Perfect stillness despite the growing urgency.

"Extraction window closing in sixty seconds," Cole reports. "Alternative route computations complete."

A security guard raises what appears to be a radio. One press and our entire operation faces compromise.

My decision takes milliseconds.

I shift aim to the emergency generator I'd identified during initial reconnaissance, mentally adjusting for the increased wind. Inhale. Half-exhale. Squeeze.

The rifle barely moves against my shoulder as the round travels exactly where intended. A shower of sparks erupts from the generator, followed by immediate darkness across the entire complex.

"Night vision protocols, twenty seconds until backup systems engage."

I break down my rifle setup while issuing instructions. Each component slides into my specialized case, movements economical and exact. No wasted motion.

Vanessa's voice comes through my earpiece, her rapid breathing making my pulse spike despite years of conditioning. She's still rattled but functioning.

"Service entrance southwest corner shows minimal security presence. Sending coordinates now."

"Copy."

My hands never falter despite the sudden warmth in my chest at the sound of her voice.

Xander chuckles through comms. "If they weren't having a bad enough day already. Nice shot, Frost."

"Moving package to extraction point Charlie," Kade reports as I secure my position, eliminating all evidence of my presence. "Saint, status?"

"Perimeter secure. Three hostiles neutralized at east entrance." Remy's voice carries his usual calm efficiency, death just another task completed.

I sling my equipment case over my shoulder and move toward the edge of the rooftop. The rain makes the metal ladder slick, but my grip never wavers as I descend into the darkness.

"Perimeter security responding to power failure," Damian warns. "Southeast quadrant compromised."

Jax's voice comes through next, engine noise in background. "Primary extraction vehicle ready at point Charlie. Secondary standing by at delta."

My boots hit the pavement silently as I slip between two buildings, moving like a shadow through the rain-soaked alley. Three blocks to extraction point. Every nerve sharpens, identifying possible dangers through ingrained habit.

Cole updates: "Backup systems initiating boot sequence. Exit now, all units."

I hear Vanessa's quiet exhale of relief when Kade confirms, "Package secure, en route to processing. Slate cooperating fully. Mission parameters achieved."

The sound of her relief loosens something tight within my chest.

"Target secured," I say into the comms, voice deliberately neutral.

The operation executed with textbook efficiency. Every variable accounted for. Every threat neutralized.

I love you.

Her words return as I start the motorcycle, the engine's purr vibrating through my hands. Rain streams down my face, mixing with something unfamiliar and warm.

Perfect mission completion. Every variable accounted for, every threat neutralized.

But my chest burns like I've taken a hollow point center mass.