Page 21 of The Sniper (Club Southside #9)

REYNA

The moment before the rooftop gave way beneath her, Reyna knew she was in trouble.

The explosion wasn’t unexpected—Artemis had laid enough traps to make sure they couldn’t predict her next move—but the sheer force of the blast sent a deep, sickening crack through the structure, splitting the rooftop apart like glass under pressure.

One second, she had her rifle, her scope tracking Artemis through the thick haze of smoke and dust. The next?

She was falling.

Reyna barely managed to twist mid-air, her hands scrambling against the jagged edge of what remained of the building. She caught the crumbling ledge at the last second, fingers digging into rough concrete as the rest of the rooftop collapsed into the warehouse below.

Shit.

She was dangling ten stories in the air, her rifle gone, her body straining against gravity’s cruel pull. Dust and debris rained down around her as the structure groaned beneath the strain. The only thing keeping her from plummeting to the unforgiving pavement below was the sheer force of her grip.

Her fingers burned, her arms screaming in protest, but she didn’t dare loosen her hold.

Then she heard him.

“Reyna!”

Daniels.

She didn’t see him, but she felt him—heard the raw panic in his voice, the rare break in his control.

She’d never heard Daniels lose his composure. Not once.

But now? Now he sounded like a man barely keeping it together.

Gunfire still rang in the distance, Fitz and Mitch engaging what was left of Artemis’s hired mercenaries. But none of it mattered. Because all Reyna could focus on was the sheer drop beneath her.

This is going to suck.

Her right hand slipped, sending another rush of gravel and dust into the air.

“Hold on,” Daniels barked.

Not exactly an option, Sir.

But she didn’t say it. She couldn’t waste the breath.

And then he was there. She didn’t know how he’d gotten there; she was just grateful he was. Daniels dropped onto his stomach at the ledge, reaching for her.

“Take my hand.” His voice was sharp, a command, a demand. “I love…”

“Don’t say that. That’s what the hero always says when he’s about to drop the heroine.”

Her arms trembled, her muscles locking up from the strain. Blood trickled down her temple, dripping onto the ruins below. The fall hadn’t knocked her out, but it had rattled her.

She reached up with her free hand, but her fingers barely brushed his.

Too far.

Daniels cursed.

Then, without hesitation, he pushed forward, ignoring the loose gravel beneath him. His body was half off the ledge now, his center of gravity dangerously close to tipping.

“Daniels, don’t...”

“Shut up and grab my hand. That’s an order.”

His tone brooked no argument.

Reyna gritted her teeth, forced her body to obey, and swung up just enough to latch onto his forearm.

His grip was iron.

Then, with a grunt of raw strength, Daniels yanked her up.

The motion was quick, jarring, her body weight momentarily pulling against him before she was over the ledge, rolling straight into him.

Her back hit his chest.

Daniels wrapped an arm around her waist and flipped them, shielding her body as another explosion—farther away, deeper in the warehouse—shook the ground.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

“I love you, Reyna,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I guess I have to tell you I love you too… you know, because you saved my life and all.”

Reyna’s breathing was labored, and her fingers clutched at his shirt, her forehead pressing against his collarbone as the adrenaline spiked and crashed all at once.

Daniels’s heart thundered beneath her ear, his arm a vice around her waist, his grip firm like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go.

“What the hell were you thinking?” His voice was a rasp, strained and furious.

Reyna let out a breathless laugh, still too shaky to move. “Not dying?”

Wrong answer.

Daniels shifted abruptly, rolling her onto her back and pinning her beneath him.

She barely had time to react before his hands framed her face, his thumb brushing against the cut on her temple. His jaw was clenched, eyes dark with something she hadn’t seen before.

She knew that look.

It wasn’t just anger.

It was fear.

Not for himself. For her.

That realization sent a strange warmth through her chest.

“I told you to hang back,” he growled, voice low, dangerous.

She lifted her chin. “And I told you I loved you.”

Daniels closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, as if trying to keep himself from shaking her. When he opened them again, the fire in his gaze burned straight through her.

“You scared the hell out of me.”

Reyna’s breath caught. Daniels didn’t do vulnerable. He didn’t show cracks in his armor, didn’t let emotions get the best of him. But right now, he wasn’t hiding it.

Not from her.

She reached up, fingers tracing the back of his neck. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “I love you.”

His jaw ticked. His grip on her tightened. “I love you, too, that’s not the point. You could have died.”

“But I didn’t.”

Daniels inhaled sharply, like he was trying to swallow whatever war was raging inside him. His hand slid from her cheek to her throat, his thumb pressing lightly against her pulse.

A test.

To feel her heartbeat.

To make sure she was still there.

Still his.

Reyna turned her head slightly, pressing her lips against the pad of his thumb.

Daniels sucked in a breath.

And then?—

The comms crackled.

“We’ve got movement!” Fitz’s voice was sharp, cutting through the moment like a blade. “Artemis is on the run!”

Daniels’s eyes snapped to the skyline. The dust had settled just enough to see the faint outline of a figure moving fast across the rooftops.

Artemis.

She was getting away.

Daniels muttered a curse under his breath and pushed off Reyna, dragging her up with him.

“You good to move?” he asked, already checking the magazine in his sidearm.

Reyna rolled her shoulder, ignoring the sharp protest from her ribs. “I’m good.”

He shot her a look that said he didn’t believe her, but there wasn’t time to argue.

Artemis was running.

And this time? They weren’t letting her get away.

Daniels touched his earpiece. “Mitch, Fitz—cut off her exit.”

“Already moving,” Mitch confirmed.

Daniels grabbed Reyna’s wrist, holding her steady for just a second longer. His grip was tight, grounding.

Then he released her, helping her to her feet as they raced across the rooftops after their quarry.

The hunt wasn’t over; it was just getting started.

Daniels barely felt the burn in his lungs as he ran.

His world narrowed to the figure ahead—Artemis, bleeding, staggering, but still standing. Still holding the detonator.

She was waiting for them.

The rooftop stretched out under the night sky, the city humming far below, oblivious to the war being waged above it. Not completely oblivious—they could hear sirens in the distance. Wind rushed past, kicking up dust and debris from the last explosion. The entire structure groaned under the damage, unstable, fragile.

And yet, Artemis stood there like a queen at the end of a ruined empire.

Her dark hair was tangled, face smeared with blood and soot, but her eyes—those sharp, vengeful eyes—held steady.

“Daniels,” she breathed, lips curling into something too bitter to be a smile. “Took you long enough.”

Daniels slowed, stepping into the light of the broken floodlamp. Reyna was at his back, moving just as carefully, the barrel of her pistol steady. Fitz and Mitch flanked them, securing their exits.

“Drop the detonator,” Daniels ordered, his voice cold, lethal. “It’s over.”

Artemis let out a breathy chuckle, shaking her head. “You still don’t get it, do you?” She lifted the small black device, her thumb resting lightly against the trigger. “This isn’t about winning. It never was.”

Reyna edged forward, her steps deliberate, her body a coiled spring of tension. “You’ve already lost.”

“Have I?” Artemis tilted her head, gaze flicking to Daniels. “You think this ends with me? There is another who hates you even more than me. Tonight, even if my body ends up on the ground and your team is still standing, there is another. Cerberus’ house of cards is going to come tumbling down.”

Daniels raised his gun a fraction. “I think you don’t walk off this rooftop.”

Her laugh was quiet. “Neither do you.”

Her thumb pressed down.

Daniels didn’t hesitate.

The shot echoed through the night, precise and final.

Artemis jerked as the bullet punched through her chest, her body folding backward. The detonator slipped from her fingers?—

Click. A moment of pure silence, then… Boom !

The world detonated around them. The blast hit like a sledgehammer, knocking Daniels back as fire and shrapnel ripped through the rooftop. The building shuddered violently beneath them, the concrete splitting into jagged cracks.

“Move!” Mitch barked over the comms, his voice barely audible through the ringing in Daniels’s ears.

Daniels grabbed Reyna’s arm and pulled. Hard.

She stumbled but kept up, her breath ragged as they ran full speed for the fire escape. Fitz and Mitch were already ahead, their figures barely visible through the rising smoke.

The rooftop was collapsing.

Behind them, the inferno swallowed what remained of Artemis. Flames licked hungrily at the structure, twisting metal groaning as support beams snapped.

Daniels didn’t look back. He couldn’t afford to.

He kept his grip tight on Reyna, leading her toward the only way out.

The fire escape was barely holding together, its rusted bolts groaning under the weight of their footfalls. The moment Daniels’ boots hit the first landing, a deafening crack split the air?—

The entire platform lurched.

“Jump!” Fitz shouted from below.

Daniels didn’t wait. He grabbed Reyna and launched them both off the edge, twisting mid-air to take the brunt of the landing. They hit hard, rolling onto the rooftop of the adjacent building. Pain flared through his ribs, but he forced it down, pushing Reyna up before hauling himself to his feet.

Mitch and Fitz were already moving, cutting a path toward the stairwell.

Behind them, the collapsing rooftop gave one final, shuddering groan… Then it was gone. The old warehouse folded in on itself, vanishing in a rush of fire and debris.

Daniels shielded Reyna as the explosion sent a shockwave rippling through the night, bits of metal and concrete pelting the rooftop around them. The heat pressed against his back, but they were clear.

They had made it.

And Artemis…

She was gone.

Cerberus headquarters was silent.

Not in the way it usually was, humming with controlled efficiency, operatives moving like ghosts through the halls. No, this was the kind of silence that came after the storm.

The kind that left scars.

Daniels sat at the edge of the war room, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table in front of him. His ribs ached, his knuckles were bruised, but none of that mattered. They’d come through the op alive. They knew who was responsible for the murders—or at least one of them—and Artemis had played her last card.

But Orion was still out there.

Fitz and Mitch had debriefed hours ago. Hartley had been moved to a secure location. Anton was still tracking the data Artemis had tried to leak, ensuring none of it had made it past their firewalls.

And Reyna…

Daniels let out a slow breath, glancing toward the far corner of the room.

She sat on the worn leather couch, her legs curled beneath her, wearing only the suit jacket he’d had on earlier. Her hair was damp from the shower, but her gaze was sharp, focused on nothing in particular.

She felt him watching. Her eyes flicked to his, dark and unreadable.

Then she exhaled, rubbing a hand over her face. “You should be resting.”

Daniels huffed a quiet laugh. “You should be listening to your own advice.”

Her lips curved slightly, but the exhaustion in her expression softened any humor.

He pushed to his feet, crossing the room. She watched him approach, but didn’t move, didn’t try to pretend she wasn’t just as wrecked as he was.

Daniels sat beside her, their knees brushing.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

The war was over. But the pieces still had to settle.

Finally, Reyna sighed. “We did it.”

Daniels reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. We did.”

Her shoulders eased slightly, but he could still see the weight of everything in her eyes. The way she carried the losses like they were her own.

He slid his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face toward him. “You did good, Reyna.”

She swallowed hard, searching his gaze. “I...” She hesitated, said. “I didn’t think I’d make it out of there.”

Daniels’s grip tightened, just a fraction. “I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

She let out a breathless laugh. “You don’t get to control everything, Daniels.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her temple, his voice low. “I do where you’re concerned.”

A small shudder ran through her, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she turned, shifting until she was curled against him, her forehead pressing against his chest.

Daniels held her.

For the first time in too long, there were no orders—no imminent danger. Orion was still out there, but for now he could wait.

Just them.

The silence stretched, but this time, it wasn’t the kind that suffocated. It was the kind that settled deep into their bones.

She sighed against him, her body relaxing fully for the first time in days. And Daniels knew, without a doubt, that whatever came next—whatever storms were still waiting for them—he wasn’t letting her go.

She was his partner, and he was sure she’d never join the Bureau. She was his. And John Daniels didn’t lose what was his. He’d have to talk to Fitz about that collar…

MITCH

Mitch Langdon stood in the dimly lit hallway outside Andi Donato’s loft, arms crossed over his broad chest, listening for any signs of movement inside. He’d just finished sweeping the entire floor, making sure no one had managed to slip past the security team downstairs. But his instincts told him something was off. Not a physical threat. No. This was something else entirely—something more dangerous.

His charge.

Andi.

He knocked once. A sharp rap that echoed against the silence. When no response came, he pushed the door open, careful to make just enough noise to announce his presence.

The moment he stepped inside, he felt her.

She stood near the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows, bathed in the moon’s silver light, her back to him. Her silhouette—strong, unyielding—was outlined against the cityscape beyond, but something in her posture told him she wasn’t feeling as invincible as she usually projected.

Mitch closed the door behind him. Locked it. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

Andi didn’t turn around. “And you’re supposed to be outside.”

His lips twitched. There she was. Always a fight on her tongue.

“I was. But I don’t like it when you get quiet.” He took a measured step forward, watching the way her shoulders stiffened. “It means you’re either plotting something reckless or thinking too much.”

A soft laugh. But it lacked its usual fire. “God forbid I think.”

He moved closer. Close enough to see the tension coiled in her arms, the tight set of her jaw. He’d known this woman long enough now to recognize when she was on the verge of snapping. And Andi Donato didn’t break. She detonated.

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t need a therapist, Mitch.”

“No.” He stopped a foot behind her, his voice a low murmur. “You need a firm hand.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. He saw it—felt it—in the way her body responded to his words, the way her fingers clenched at her sides. It was in the way she didn’t turn to face him, as if she already knew what she’d see in his eyes.

Mitch had been patient. He’d spent weeks at her side, shadowing her every move, keeping her safe from the growing threat that lurked in the dark. But there was another battle waging between them, and Andi had been fighting it just as fiercely as she fought everything else in her life.

He wasn’t the kind of man to push where he wasn’t wanted. But he also wasn’t blind.

“I see you, Andi.” His voice was like gravel, rough and sure. “You’re unraveling. You’re burning at both ends, and you won’t let yourself stop long enough to feel it.”

She swallowed. “I can handle myself.”

“Of course you can.” He stepped closer, his chest almost touching her back. “But you don’t have to.”

A war raged in the silence that stretched between them. The air thickened, charged with something neither of them had the will to name. Andi breathed, slow and uneven, her head tilting slightly, as if she were debating whether or not to lean into him.

Mitch made the decision for her.

One hand came up, skimming along the curve of her waist before settling at her hip. He felt the shudder that ran through her at his touch. “Let me take the weight for a while.”

Her head dropped forward, just a fraction. “Mitch…”

“I know.” He squeezed, firm and reassuring. “You don’t have to say it.”

But then she did turn, and when their eyes met, there was nothing cautious about the way she looked at him. There was fire there. Frustration. Hunger.

“Then stop making me.”

He didn’t wait for more. Didn’t give her a chance to second-guess herself. His hands came up, cupping her face as he backed her against the cool glass of the window. His mouth crashed against hers, swallowing the moan that escaped the moment his tongue met hers.

Andi responded with the same fervor she did everything else—with passion, with defiance, with an intoxicating mixture of fury and need. She grabbed at his shirt, yanking him closer, her body pressing against him in a way that was all demand, no hesitation.

Mitch growled, deep and low, one hand sliding into her hair, gripping just tight enough to tilt her head back. He drank her in, tasted the fire and the fight and the woman who’d been testing his patience for weeks.

But he wasn’t here to play her games.

Breaking the kiss, he held her gaze, his breathing just as ragged as hers. “Say it.”

Her pupils were blown wide, her lips swollen. “Say what?”

“That you need this.” His grip in her hair tightened, just enough to make her gasp. “That you need me.”

She shook her head—stubborn, proud. But her body betrayed her, arching against him, seeking, wanting.

Mitch smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

Andi made a sound of protest, but it was swallowed by his mouth as he took her lips again, slower this time. More controlled. He mapped every inch of her, every shiver, every sharp inhale. And when he finally pulled away, his voice was a dark promise against her skin.

“This isn’t over.”

Mitch pressed a final kiss to the corner of her mouth before stepping back, giving her space she clearly didn’t want. Not anymore. He brushed a thumb over her swollen bottom lip, smiling when she leaned into his touch.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

Andi narrowed her eyes. “You’re such a...”

He turned on his heel, already walking away. “Careful, Donato.” His voice was a low rasp. “You keep pushing, and I might just decide to give you what you really need.”

Her silence followed him out the door, but Mitch didn’t need to look back to know she was watching him. He could feel it.

And for the first time since he took the job, he knew exactly where this was heading.

Straight into the fire.