Page 3 of The Sniper (Club Southside #9)
CHAPTER THREE
REYNA
T he cold Chicago air bit at Reyna’s exposed face as she crouched behind the crumbling brick wall of an abandoned factory, her fingers flexing around the grip of her silenced pistol. The mission was supposed to be simple—get in, plant the listening devices, and get out without being seen. It was textbook Cerberus work, the kind of operation she could do in her sleep. Yet tonight, her instincts were firing on all cylinders, screaming at her to keep her guard up.
“Status?” Reyna whispered into her comm, her voice barely audible over the faint whistling of the wind.
“North perimeter is clear,” came Mitch’s reply, the team’s tech wizard. “No signs of movement on thermal.”
“South’s clear, too,” chimed in Caro, her partner for this mission, who was currently stationed on the far side of the building. “You’re good to plant and bounce.”
Reyna’s breath puffed out in a white cloud as she pressed herself lower to the ground. “Copy that. Moving now.”
Her boots made almost no sound on the pavement as she slipped from her cover and darted toward the side door. The lock was ancient, barely functional, and gave way with a soft click under her skilled hands. Inside, the factory was dark and musty, the air thick with the scent of mildew and rust. She moved quickly, her body flowing through the shadows like a wraith. One by one, she planted the devices in the designated locations, each placement precise and deliberate.
It wasn’t until she was on the last device that the vibration of her phone against her hip startled her. She froze, her pulse quickening as she quickly finished her work and ducked behind a nearby column. Fishing out the phone, she glanced at the screen, irritation prickling at her when she saw the name.
Daniels. The man had piss-poor timing. Of all the times for him to call, it had to be now.
“What do you want?” she hissed, her voice low but laced with annoyance.
“Reyna,” his deep, steady voice cut through the line, bringing with it a heaviness that immediately set her on edge. “We need to talk. Now.”
“I’m in the middle of something,” she snapped, peeking around the column to ensure she was still alone.
“This can’t wait,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “It’s Veda.”
The name hit her like a blow to the chest. Veda wasn’t a friend, but she was someone Reyna knew. She was a well-known Domme within the BDSM community. She was someone Reyna respected in the way you respected another professional in the scene who played hard and clean. Veda didn’t get into trouble, at least not the kind that ended with Daniels calling her like this.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice softening despite herself.
“She’s dead,” Daniels said bluntly. “Murdered. And before you ask, yes, this involves Cerberus. She left a message before she died.”
Reyna leaned back against the column, her stomach churning. “What kind of message?”
“One word,” Daniels replied. “ Cerber. Written in her own blood.”
Reyna closed her eyes, the implications crashing over her like a tidal wave. “Damn it,” she muttered. “Where are you?”
“Right outside the Velvet Glove,” he said. “The scene’s already cold, but I need you here. Now.”
“Fine,” she said, pocketing the phone. “But this better not be another one of your overreaches.”
“You’ll see for yourself soon enough,” Daniels replied, his tone cutting off the conversation before she could argue further. The line went dead, and Reyna let out a sharp breath, her mind already shifting gears.
She tapped her comm. “Mitch, Caro, op’s done. We’re pulling out.”
“What?” Caro’s voice crackled in her ear. “We’re supposed to watch for twenty-four hours. That was the whole point.”
“Change of plans,” Reyna said, already heading for the exit. “Get the equipment packed up and meet me at the van. Something serious has happened. I have somewhere else I need to be.”
“Everything okay?” Mitch asked, his usual laid-back tone replaced with concern.
“Not even a little,” Reyna replied before cutting the line. She moved quickly, her body tense as she slipped back out into the cold night. Whatever mess Daniels had stumbled into, it was clear he thought it was her problem, now.
Fifteen minutes later, Reyna pulled her black SUV to a stop outside the chain-link fence blocking the way to the alley beside and the parking lot behind the Velvet Glove. The hulking structure of concrete and steel loomed in front of her, stark and lifeless against the dark city skyline. She killed the engine, leaned back in her seat for a second, and took a deep breath. The cold night air seeped in through the cracked window, but it didn’t do much to steady her nerves. She grabbed her bag from the passenger seat, swung the door open, and stepped out, the wind biting against her exposed skin.
Daniels was standing near the entrance, his frame silhouetted by the faint glow of the streetlights. He looked like he belonged there—tall, commanding, the kind of presence that drew attention even when he wasn’t trying. Dressed in his usual dark slacks and tailored coat, he looked every bit the federal agent, rigid authority practically radiating off him. For a second, she thought about turning back. Climbing back into her SUV, driving off, and calling King to deal with whatever mess this might be. But she didn’t. She never did.
She adjusted her leather jacket as she approached, her footsteps purposeful against the pavement. “What the hell happened?” she asked, her voice carrying enough edge to cover the flicker of unease that still churned in her gut.
“Mistress Veda,” he said, his voice even but edged with something darker. “Found dead behind The Velvet Glove. Knife wound. She wrote Cerber in her own blood before she died.”
Reyna’s stomach tightened. “Someone’s trying to frame us.”
“Or draw you out,” Daniels countered. His arms crossed over his chest, his sharp gaze locked onto her. “Either way, this isn’t random. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing.”
Reyna snorted and began pacing, the steady click of her boots against the pavement filling the silence. “Veda wasn’t one of us. She wasn’t even a regular at Southside. Why would someone target her to get to us?”
Daniels watched her, his expression unreadable. “Maybe she knew something she wasn’t supposed to. Or maybe she was leverage. Either way, we need to figure it out before this gets any worse.”
Reyna stopped abruptly, turning to face him. Her jaw tightened, suspicion narrowing her gaze. “You think Lang could be behind this?”
Daniels considered it, his features hardening. Lang had been a ghost in the underworld for years—an elusive predator orchestrating human trafficking rings with brutal efficiency. Cerberus had finally taken him down, but men like him had long shadows. “It’s possible,” he admitted. “But this feels… personal. Lang’s people wouldn’t leave a trail this obvious.”
Reyna shifted, tension coiling inside her. Lang’s downfall had been a victory, but it had also left dangerous pieces scattered across the board. Someone was still playing the game.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked, her voice clipped, determined.
Daniels stepped closer, the air between them shifting. His voice dropped, calm but commanding. “We start with Veda’s connections. Someone knew she had guest privileges at Southside. That’s not public knowledge. We dig into her life, her play partners, anyone she might have crossed paths with.”
Reyna nodded, her mind already calculating their next steps. “I’ll call the team. We’ll run background checks and surveillance on everyone in her orbit. Someone had a reason to go after her.”
Daniels hesitated for half a beat, then spoke, his voice lower this time. “And Reyna…”
She turned back to him, her eyebrow lifting slightly at the shift in his tone.
“Be careful,” he said, something unspoken threading through the words. “Whoever did this isn’t afraid to get tough
. I don’t want you walking into something we can’t get you out of.”
A slow smile ghosted across her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You worried about me, Daniels?”
His answer was immediate, no hesitation. “Always.”
The quiet confession hung between them, thickening the air. His gaze held hers, steady and unwavering. For a moment, it wasn’t just about the job, the case, or the body count. It was something else—something neither of them had the luxury of acknowledging right now.
Reyna breathed, breaking the moment before it could take root. “Well, don’t be. I don’t know that the FBI needs to get involved in this. Cerberus can handle it.”
“Officially, you shouldn’t even be here,” he replied, his voice as sharp as hers.
Reyna felt the familiar fire rise that always accompanied Daniels trying to pull rank outside of the club. “And yet you called me in. I might point out that this isn’t an FBI matter. It’s a local homicide,” she snapped. “This is Chicago PD business, and I’m sure they’ll ask for our help if they want it.”
Daniels didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, his gaze stayed fixed on hers, calm but unwavering. “Jurisdiction doesn’t matter when someone’s writing messages in their own blood,” he said evenly. “You think the mayor or the Police Commissioner are going to ignore that? They asked for the Bureau’s help, and they’re going to get it.”
“It has nothing to do with you,” she snorted. “How do you know this isn’t some random murder, Daniels? I haven’t heard of anything operating in Chicago that might be of concern to the FBI. This is either a setup or a distraction.”
“From what?”
“I’m not at liberty to say. What I will say is that I don’t need the FBI breathing down my neck while I figure out which one.”
He stepped closer, his broad frame blocking her view of the bloodstained pavement. “You might not need me,” he said, his voice dropping to that quiet, commanding tone that always set her on edge. “But you’ve got me. Whether you like it or not. In case it has slipped your mind, Cerberus has no official standing.”
Her jaw clenched, the tension between them thick enough to strangle. “I am aware, but this involves us, and we won’t be excluded.”
“No one’s trying to exclude you. Someone left a body with a message tied directly to your team,” Daniels replied, his tone hardening. “But I’m not about to let you play Lone Ranger on something this big. You don’t have to want my help, Reyna, but you’re damn well going to take it.”
Reyna stared him down, her arms still crossed, her sharp gaze drilling into him. For a moment, she thought about telling him to fuck off. About walking away and letting him deal with the fallout on his own. But the truth was, she couldn’t. This wasn’t just about Cerberus. It wasn’t even about her. It was bigger than that, and Daniels knew it just as well as she did.
“This is personal,” she said finally, her voice quieter now. “For me. For my team. You don’t understand what that means.”
Daniels stepped even closer, his voice lowering. “You think it’s not personal for me? I’ve seen what happens when people like this don’t get stopped in time. I’ve lived with the aftermath. So don’t stand there and act like you’ve got a monopoly on caring about this, because you don’t.”
His words hit harder than she expected, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. Her fists clenched at her sides, her mind racing for a retort, but nothing came. Instead, she turned her attention back to the bloodstained pavement, the scrawled letters staring back at her like a challenge.
“Fine,” she said finally, her voice tight. “But if you’re going to stick your nose in, you’re going to follow my lead.”
Daniels raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady. “Your lead?”
“Yes,” she said, turning back to him with fire in her eyes. “This is still my turf, Daniels.”
“No, Reyna, it’s not. You want to work together? Then you play by my rules.”
She ground her teeth, but didn’t argue. The silence that followed was thick with tension. After a long moment, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if she’d just given him a migraine. “Look, I’m not here to step on Cerberus’s toes,” he said finally. “But if this killer is targeting those in the lifestyle, or Cerberus—or worse, if it’s someone on the inside—you’re going to need more than just your team to deal with it.”
Reyna hesitated, the weight of his words settling in her chest. He wasn’t wrong. She hated that he wasn’t wrong. Finally, she nodded, her expression reluctant. “Fine. But this stays quiet. No Bureau brass, no press, no leaks.”
“Agreed,” Daniels said, his tone steady.
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, the intensity in his dark eyes sending a ripple of something she refused to name through her chest. Finally, she turned back to the wall, the victim’s final act still screaming for answers neither of them had.
“What do you have so far?” Reyna asked, stepping up beside the body.
“Not a whole lot. Initial thoughts?”
“Veda didn’t play often at Southside. She wasn’t a member, but she knew people who were, and she knew others who played with guest privileges. She’d been in the scene a long time, long enough to know the risks of playing with the wrong people.”
Daniels nodded, his expression hardening as he studied the scrawled message. “And Cerber ? What do you make of that?”
“I haven’t a clue,” Reyna said, her voice tight. “But it has to be some kind of warning. Veda was trying to tell us something. You don’t spend the last moments of your life and use your own blood to write something unless it’s important. My guess it’s something or someone tied to us, and they’re not afraid to make it messy.”
Daniels glanced at her, his jaw tightening. “Then we’d better figure out who it is and what they want before they strike again.”
She traced her gloved fingers over the jagged letters spelling Cerber sending a chill down her spine. Veda’s message was crude, desperate—a plea scratched out in her final moments. Reyna’s mind churned with possibilities, her instincts screaming that this wasn’t just some random act of violence. Whoever had done it was sending a specific message.
“Why here?” she muttered, more to herself than to Daniels, who stood a few feet behind her, his presence as steady as the shadows around them.
“It’s relatively isolated—most regulars go through the front door,” Daniels said, his deep voice carrying through the cold air. “It’s quiet. Easy to control. If I were looking to send a message without attracting attention, this would be the place.”
She turned, her gaze meeting his. His dark eyes were sharp, assessing, but there was something else there, something deeper that he rarely let show. Concern? No, it was more complicated than that. It always was with him.
The way he said it, low and calm, made her chest tighten. She hated that about him—the way he could make her feel things she didn’t want to feel, like sympathy, connection, or worse, understanding. It was easier to keep her walls up when he wasn’t around, but now, in the dim light of the alley, with the smell of blood and death still lingering in the air, those walls felt more like glass.
“Reyna,” Daniels said, pulling her from her thoughts. “Look at me.”
She didn’t want to. She wanted to keep her focus on the case, on the task in front of them. But his voice had that edge, that quiet command that always made her pause. Slowly, reluctantly, she lifted her gaze to meet his.
“I’m fine,” she said, her voice sharper than she intended. “Let’s get back to the case.”
Daniels studied her for a moment, his gaze lingering, before he nodded. “The evidence bag’s over here,” he said, gesturing to a nearby van.
Reyna followed him, her boots echoing softly against the concrete. On the shelf was a sealed bag, the contents clearly visible: a black leather collar, pristine and unmarked, as if it had been placed deliberately beside the victim’s body.
She stared at it, her stomach twisting. “That’s not hers.”
“I know,” Daniels said. “Mistress Veda didn’t wear collars. She was a Domme.”
“We know that, but did the killer?” Reyna said, her mind racing.
Daniels nodded. Reyna reached out, her gloved fingers brushing against the edge of the bag. The collar was simple but unmistakably symbolic, its message clear to anyone in the scene. Submission. Control. Ownership.
“This wasn’t just a murder,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Daniels stepped closer, his presence solid and grounding. “What do you see, Reyna?”
She let out a breath, forcing herself to think. “I see someone who knows how we operate. Someone who knows enough about Cerberus to use that knowledge against us.”
Daniels didn’t reply, but she could feel the apprehension radiating from him. They were in deeper than either of them wanted to admit, and the worst part was knowing this was only the beginning.
Reyna’s gaze lingered on the bloodstained ground. This was personal. And whoever was behind it wasn’t done.