Page 13 of The Sniper (Club Southside #9)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

REYNA

R eyna, Daniels, Anton, and the IT group at Cerberus were able to track down the two most likely places Rowe might be found. Splitting into two groups—she and Daniels, Fitz and Anton—they headed out.

The night air was thick and heavy with anticipation, the kind of charged silence that came before a storm. The sprawling estate, secluded and on the edge of the city, pulsed with an undercurrent of seduction and secrecy. From the outside, it looked like any other grand mansion—elegant and tasteful, the kind of place where the ultra-wealthy came to indulge in sins they wouldn’t dare speak of in daylight. But inside, it was something else entirely.

This was no ordinary high-profile gathering. It was a party , yes, but one where the rules of society blurred into something darker. Every guest here had something to lose if their secrets came to light. And tonight, one of them was marked for death.

Reyna adjusted the drape of her deep burgundy dress in the passenger seat of the sleek, black SUV, checking the way the fabric flowed around her thighs. The material was soft, liquid against her skin, cut to skim over her curves while leaving the back nearly bare, the hem stopping just above her ankles. But the real brilliance of the design lay beneath—the built-in harness concealed within the folds of the dress, securing the dismantled Desert Tech SRS A2 Covert. It might have felt clunky, but when she’d checked in the mirror before leaving, nothing had looked out of place.

It wasn’t perfect. If someone patted her down, they’d find something. But most people would be too distracted by the plunging neckline and slit in the skirt to look twice.

Daniels glanced over from the driver’s seat, his dark gaze sweeping over her in approval. “Remind me to send a thank-you to whoever designed that dress.”

Reyna arched an eyebrow. “If this goes sideways, remind me to shoot them first. This isn’t exactly comfortable.”

His mouth twitched, but his focus was already shifting. The estate loomed ahead, bathed in golden light, the sounds of classical music and soft laughter spilling into the night. Wealth and decadence dripped from every surface. This was the kind of place where people thought their money could protect them. She and Daniels were about to prove otherwise.

“Rowe should be inside,” Daniels murmured as they pulled into the circular drive, the valet already moving to open her door. “You get into position. I’ll do the talking.”

Reyna stepped out, gracefully smoothing her dress as she scanned the scene. No weapons visible, but that didn’t mean anything.

She shot Daniels a quick glance. “Try not to get yourself killed before I’m in place.”

His lips curled in a slow, dark promise. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

With that, they split.

Reyna moved through the party like she belonged, greeting passing guests with a slight nod but keeping her focus ahead. She slipped into the main house, weaving past servants and security, moving toward the study she’d mapped out earlier—a second-floor room with a clear vantage point of the party below.

Once inside, she closed the door and sighed. The room smelled of leather and aged wood, dimly lit by the city lights outside.

She didn’t waste time.

Carefully, she reached behind her, finding the hidden clasps in her dress and undoing them with practiced ease. The Desert Tech SRS A2 Covert slid free from the harness in pieces. She laid it out on the polished mahogany desk, her fingers working quickly to assemble the suppressed sniper rifle with muscle memory alone.

Seconds later, she was locked and loaded.

She moved to the window, positioning herself just out of sight behind heavy curtains and sighting down onto the scene outside.

Rowe moved through the crowd like he belonged there—because he did. The man had aged well—mid-forties, salt-and-pepper hair, piercing green eyes that missed nothing. He wasn’t a Dom who demanded attention. He was the kind who let power settle around him like a second skin, effortlessly commanding without ever having to raise his voice.

He had that natural confidence, that easy command that made people step aside without realizing why. Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, he exuded power without ever needing to say a word.

But Reyna knew the man beneath the smooth exterior. She knew the lethal efficiency that lay just beneath the surface, the calculated precision of a predator waiting to strike. And tonight, he was hunting.

Reyna let out her breath slowly, resting her finger lightly against the trigger guard.

Now, she waited. Hidden. Watching. Ready.

It was a carefully orchestrated dance of dominance and submission, silk and steel, pleasure and control. She swept her gaze across the crowd, her pulse steady, her breathing even.

Then, she found him.

Daniels.

She adjusted the sight on her rifle, her fingers moving deftly over the gun. This was where she thrived—in the shadows, unseen, the silent reaper watching over the battlefield. Daniels was the bait, the one moving in close, drawing out the threat. And she was the executioner waiting for the right moment.

Through her scope, she watched him scan the room, searching. She slid the rifle back to site on Rowe. He seemed to be on edge.

Reyna could see it in the tightness of his posture, the way his gaze flickered to the shadows, expecting something— someone .

Daniels had seen it, too. She watched as he made his way toward Rowe, his expression carefully controlled, the perfect mask.

Then she saw the shadows shift. Her muscles coiled. Through the scope, she caught movement—three figures closing in fast.

Shit.

She pressed her comms. “Daniels. Three hostiles, ten o’clock.”

He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

A fourth figure appeared behind Rowe, blending into the crowd so seamlessly that if she hadn’t been watching, she would’ve missed it.

The killer—lithe and lean. It was an ambush. And Daniels was walking right into it.

Reyna breathed out slowly, her trigger finger resting against the guard. She could take the shot, but there were too many bodies, too much risk of collateral damage.

Daniels had to handle this on his own—at least for now.

She watched as he closed the final steps toward Rowe, his body a coiled spring, ready to react. He reached out, a firm grip on Rowe’s arm. Through the comms, she could hear Daniels say, “We need to talk. Now.”

But before Rowe could respond, the three assailants moved.

The first one came in high, reaching for Daniels’ shoulder—bad move.

Daniels pivoted sharply, catching the man’s wrist and twisting until the sickening pop of bone echoed through Reyna’s earpiece. The man barely had time to scream before Daniels drove a brutal punch into his throat, dropping him instantly.

Through the scope, she watched as the second assailant lunged, blade glinting under the fairy lights that had been strung through the bushes.

No time.

Reyna blew her breath out softly, finger tightening on the trigger.

The silenced round hit its mark, a clean shot straight through the attacker’s temple. The man’s body jerked violently before he crumpled, his knife slipping from his fingers and clattering on the ground.

She swung her aim toward the killer and the other remaining assailant.

The scene erupted into chaos.

Gasps and startled cries rippled through the guests, some scrambling away, others frozen in perverse fascination. The killer, now aware of the sniper’s presence, spun, a blur of motion as she bolted toward the far exit.

Reyna squeezed the trigger twice.

The next shot clipped the killer’s shoulder, staggering her. The second bullet should have been a kill shot, but at the last moment, a guest inadvertently moved into the line of fire, forcing Reyna to shift her aim just a fraction too late. The killer didn’t hesitate, disappearing into the mass of bodies, using the chaos as cover.

Damn it!

The last attacker was faster than the first two. He lunged low, going for Daniels’ ribs.

Reyna’s breath caught.

Daniels twisted, but not fast enough. The blade glinted in the dim light before it sliced into him. Then she saw the knife in Daniels’ side.

Blood.

Reyna’s heartbeat slammed against her ribs.

Daniels didn’t hesitate. Even when he was wounded, he moved like a phantom. His knee came up, slamming into the attacker’s gut, then he drove his elbow down hard on the man’s spine. The assailant crumpled, gasping for breath.

Blood—too much of it.

Panic tried to claw its way up her throat, but she crushed it. No distractions. No emotions. She had a job to do.

Daniels straightened, his hand pressing against the wound, his eyes sweeping the room. He knew they were losing the killer and Rowe.

“Move,” Reyna said through the comms. “I’ve got this, I’m coming to you.”

Reyna didn’t waste another second. The killer was gone; they’d missed their chance. She was already dismantling her rifle, stripping it down with practiced efficiency. The mission had shifted. The sniper’s role was done; now she needed to get to Daniels.

She left the study and moved quickly until she reached his side, barely resisting the urge to touch him, to check his wound. “We need to get you out of here.”

Daniels shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Daniels...”

“Rowe’s still in play.” His jaw was tight, his eyes dark with something unreadable. “We find him first.”

Stubborn asshole.

She wanted to shake him, to make him stop being so goddamn reckless, but she knew better. He wasn’t going to back down. And neither was she.

The chaotic movements of the crowd made it difficult to spot anyone, but she could feel the shift in Daniels’s energy and body posture when he spotted Rowe. He moved ahead with surprising grace and speed for a man who’d just been knifed.

Daniels was already moving by the time she noticed the shift. He caught up to Rowe, gripping him by the collar of his expensive suit and dragging him toward an exit while keeping his arm tightly against the injured side of his body.

Daniels shoved Rowe behind the wheel of the SUV. “Drive,” he barked at Rowe, his voice like gravel, dark and commanding. “Unless you want to be next.”

Rowe didn’t hesitate. He was pale and shaken, but he didn’t argue, his hands gripping the wheel with white-knuckled intensity.

Daniels slid into the backseat, followed by Reyna. “You’re bleeding.”

Daniels pressed a hand to his side, where blood had already seeped through his dress shirt. “We have bigger problems.”

She clenched her jaw. “We lost them.”

“I noticed.”

She barely restrained the urge to curse. They should have had this wrapped up. Rowe was alive, but the killer had slipped through their fingers.

Daniels pinched the bridge of his nose before turning back to her. His dark eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, there was a crushing sense of failure. But then he straightened, shoulders squaring despite the pain, and the steel returned to his expression.

“This isn’t over.” His voice was low, unwavering.

“No,” Reyna agreed. “It’s not.”

The city stretched around them, the night swallowing their words. Somewhere out there, the killer was still moving, still hunting.