Page 16 of The Sniper (Club Southside #9)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

REYNA

B elow, the team breached the entrance, their weapons at the ready. The massive sliding door had been left slightly ajar—an invitation or a trap, it was impossible to say.

Reyna perched herself along a narrow catwalk running across the ceiling, balancing carefully as she slowly assembled her rifle. The Desert Tech SRS A2 Covert came together with practiced efficiency, each click of a component settling into place, keeping her present in the moment.

Through the scope, she swept the space below.

The interior was worse than she expected—old crates and rusted machinery, flickering fluorescent lights that barely illuminated the cavernous space. A single wooden table sat in the center of the room, littered with documents, burner phones, and what looked like a laptop still powered on.

Bingo.

Daniels, Fitz, Mitch, and Anton moved in, spreading out as they cleared the space. Their footsteps echoed off the high ceiling, the tension humming between them.

Daniels reached the table first, sifting through the scattered files. His posture went rigid. “We’ve got names.”

Reyna adjusted her position, keeping her rifle trained on the entrance. “Anyone we recognize?”

Daniels didn’t answer immediately. Then, he cursed under his breath.

“What?” Fitz demanded.

Daniels turned the page, his jaw tightening. “She was building dossiers. Not just on Rowe, not just on Hartley. On everyone connected to the underground auctions.”

Mitch leaned over his shoulder. “This isn’t just a kill list. This is an entire network.”

Anton whistled low. “Whoever Artemis is, she wasn’t just hunting targets—she was planning something bigger.”

Reyna adjusted her scope, sweeping the space again, her gut twisting. Something felt… off.

The way the papers were arranged. The way the door had been left ajar. It was too easy.

She pressed her earpiece. “I don’t like this. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Agreed,” said Fitz. “We move fast. Take what we need and get the hell out.”

That was all the confirmation she needed. She started disassembling her rifle, preparing to make her way down when?—

The hair on the back of her neck stood up—she wasn’t alone.

The realization hit her a second before a hand clamped over her mouth.

Adrenaline surged through her system as she lashed out, slamming her elbow back into her attacker’s ribs. The grip faltered just enough for her to break free, twisting as she turned to face the threat.

A woman stood before her, dressed in tactical black, a knife glinting in her right hand. Her presence was impossibly silent, her movements fluid—too fluid for someone untrained.

Reyna’s stomach dropped. Artemis.

The killer had been waiting for them.

And she had Reyna exactly where she wanted her.

“Disconnect from your comm unit and I’ll drop the weapon,” Artemis murmured, her voice smooth, almost amused. “Or I’ll carve that pretty face of yours into something unrecognizable.”

Reyna reached up and disconnected her comm, but Artemis didn’t drop a damn thing. Instead, she lunged.

Artemis was fast, but Reyna was faster. She ducked under the first swipe of the blade, rolling onto the catwalk and reaching for the spare pistol at her thigh. But Artemis was already there, kicking the weapon from her grip.

Reyna barely had time to curse before she was forced to dodge another strike, the sharp edge slicing through the air inches from her throat.

She twisted, using the narrow walkway to her advantage, forcing Artemis into a tighter space where her knife was less effective. But the woman was skilled—she anticipated Reyna’s every move, countering each attack with lethal precision.

Below, the team was fighting Artemis’s men, unable to help with the battle unfolding above them.

Reyna knew she had only seconds to act. The momentum of her leap sent them both crashing into the railing of the catwalk, her forearm pressing hard against Artemis’s throat, pinning her in place. Artemis’s hands shot up, grabbing Reyna’s wrist, her nails biting into flesh as she struggled.

Reyna gritted her teeth. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance.”

Artemis’s lips curled. “I still can.”

She twisted sharply, using the railing as leverage to spin out of Reyna’s hold. Reyna barely had time to shift before Artemis drove a fist into her ribs, knocking the air from her lungs.

Reyna staggered back, forcing herself to breathe through the pain, but Artemis was already on her.

A sharp elbow to the jaw sent Reyna stumbling, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth. Before she could recover, Artemis hooked a foot behind her knee, yanking her down hard onto the cold steel of the catwalk.

Reyna barely caught herself before her skull cracked against the walkway. She rolled, dodging the next attack, springing back to her feet in time to block a punch aimed straight for her ribs.

They circled each other, breathless but determined, their movements a violent dance of precision and instinct.

Artemis lunged again, but Reyna anticipated it this time, twisting at the last second and bringing her knee up hard into Artemis’s stomach.

The impact sent Artemis reeling. Reyna didn’t let up. She swung, catching Artemis across the face with a brutal right hook that sent her crashing onto the catwalk.

Reyna reached for her knife.

Artemis reached for something else.

The moment Reyna saw the syringe, she knew she’d made a mistake.

She lunged, but she was a second too late.

Artemis pivoted and jammed the needle into the side of Reyna’s neck.

A cold, numbing sensation spread instantly through Reyna’s veins, a sharp contrast to the fire of battle still burning through her muscles. Her vision wavered, her limbs growing sluggish as the tranquilizer worked its way into her system.

“No,” she gritted out, trying to swing again, but her movements were slow, uncoordinated.

Artemis stepped back, rolling her shoulder as if shaking off the fight. “You’re good, I’ll give you that,” she murmured, watching as Reyna swayed.

Reyna’s knees buckled, her balance slipping.

She reached out blindly, trying to grab onto something—anything—to keep herself upright, but the world tilted, her vision darkening at the edges.

Artemis crouched beside her as she sank to the catwalk, her voice smooth and taunting. “I have work to do.”

Reyna tried to form words, but her lips wouldn’t cooperate. The last thing she saw was Artemis standing over her, a ghost of a smile on her face, before the darkness swallowed her whole.

Reyna’s world was a haze of pain and static, her head pounding from whatever drug Artemis had used. Waking up in what looked like a makeshift torture room was disconcerting and terrifying in equal measure. Her wrists burned where they were bound, the unforgiving bite of rope chafing against her skin. Her legs were tied at the ankles, restricting movement but not completely immobilizing her.

She was bound but not broken.

Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, tracing the crude setup—a battered metal chair bolted to the ground, a single overhead bulb casting harsh shadows along the cracked concrete floor, and a workbench lined with tools that had no business being in an industrial warehouse. There was no mistaking what this place was meant for.

This was a room for people who weren’t meant to leave.

A slow, measured set of footsteps echoed through the space, and then she saw her. Artemis.

The woman stepped into the light with an eerie calm, her movements precise and calculated. Gone was the sleek party disguise, replaced with combat boots, black tactical pants, and a fitted thermal shirt that did nothing to soften the hard edges of her frame.

Reyna swallowed the dry heat building in her throat and forced her pulse to steady. She couldn’t afford to show weakness.

"Well, well, well," Reyna drawled, forcing an easy tone, though her body was already bracing for whatever was coming next. "If you wanted me tied up, you could’ve just asked. I’ve never had a woman tie me up, might be something I should try."

Artemis didn't take the bait. Instead, she stepped closer, tilting her head as if studying an insect under glass. "You don’t look scared."

"I don’t scare easily."

Artemis let out a soft hum, her fingers trailing over a knife on the workbench. "I suppose you wouldn’t. Daniels wouldn’t take a woman who couldn’t handle herself."

The way she said his name sent a jolt of unease through Reyna’s gut. Artemis didn’t say it with casual acknowledgment—there was something personal there, something dangerous.

"Let me guess," Reyna said, shifting in her bindings to gauge how much give she had. "This is the part where you monologue about your grand master plan before you kill me? If so, you’re going to have to do better. I’ve heard them all."

Artemis chuckled, the sound low and almost amused. "You think this is a game?"

"I think you’re stalling."

That earned her a slight smile, though there was no humor in it. Artemis walked around her, a slow, deliberate predator circling its wounded prey. "I should kill you now," she mused. "But I think I’d rather let you sit in this a little longer. Let you wonder if Daniels will get here in time."

Reyna didn't take the bait. She couldn't. The moment she showed even a flicker of fear, Artemis would pounce. Instead, she forced herself to lean back as if she were in the lounge at Club Southside, utterly unimpressed by the threat standing before her.

"You’re good," Reyna admitted. "I’ll give you that. You’re smart, well-trained, and you sure as hell know how to cover your tracks. But I know a grudge when I see one. This isn’t just business for you. It’s personal."

Something dark flickered in Artemis’s gaze. She turned, bracing her hands on the back of Reyna’s chair, leaning in close.

"You’re right," she whispered. "This is personal."

Reyna stilled, barely breathing as Artemis’s fingers traced the exposed skin on her forearm. Not as a caress, but as if she were deciding where to cut first.

"My sister," Artemis said, her voice deceptively soft, "was taken in one of those underground auctions your team raided. She was sold off like a piece of livestock. You were there that night, weren’t you?"

Reyna's mind worked fast, sifting through past missions, past faces. Too many auctions. Too many victims. Too many women they hadn't been able to save.

Artemis straightened, pacing slowly, her fingers curling into fists. "Cerberus came in, all guns blazing, thinking you were saving the day. You shut down that auction, arrested the ringleaders. But you didn’t get them all. You didn’t get her. My sister was taken before you even breached the doors."

Reyna shook her head slowly. That wasn’t uncommon. The underground auction circuits were designed for maximum secrecy. Sometimes, by the time they got there, the most valuable victims were already gone.

"You think we didn't try?" Reyna said, keeping her voice steady. "You think we didn’t track every lead? We don’t leave people behind."

"You left her behind." Artemis turned sharply, her eyes burning with something raw and unhinged. "She was fifteen. Do you know what happens to a fifteen-year-old girl in that world?"

Reyna clenched her jaw. She knew. She knew .

Artemis’s breath shuddered. "I searched for her. I hunted them down. And when I finally got close enough…" Her lips curled. "She was already dead. Beaten. Used up and discarded. Just another girl lost to a system that does nothing but fail the innocent."

Reyna’s stomach twisted. "I'm sorry."

“I don’t know if you are or not,” Artemis’s laughter was sharp and cold, "but you will be."

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Do you know what the best revenge is, Reyna?"

Reyna remained silent, letting Artemis have her moment.

"You don’t just go after the soldiers," Artemis murmured. "You take out the generals."

Artemis grinned, a slow wicked thing, and a spike of fear stabbed through Reyna's gut. She knew what Artemis was saying before the words even left her lips.

"You’re not his weakness," Artemis continued, standing to her full height. "Oh, he cares about you, but not the way he does about them. The ones he swore to protect above all else."

Reyna’s blood ran cold—those they hadn’t been able to save.

Artemis tilted her head, mockingly thoughtful. "What was it Daniels said? That this wasn’t over?" She smiled. "He was right."

The door to the warehouse groaned as it opened. Artemis didn’t look back.

"I’ve enjoyed our little chat," she said, backing toward the exit. "But I have work to do."

Reyna twisted violently in her chair, the pain of the rope cutting into her wrists nothing compared to the sheer panic clawing at her insides.

"You won’t make it out of this alive," Reyna hissed.

Artemis met her gaze, utterly unshaken. "I don’t plan to."

Then she was gone.

Reyna’s breathing came fast and shallow, her pulse hammering in her ears. She yanked harder against the ropes, ignoring the burn, the blood trickling down her skin and felt them beginning to loosen.

She had to get out. Had to warn Fitz, Daniels and Archer—the man who was heading up Cerberus’ human trafficking team. Because Artemis wasn’t just after them. She was after every single person she held responsible for her sister’s abduction.

Artemis was after people Reyna loved, and Reyna would burn the entire world down before she let her have them.