Page 16 of The Sniper
I laughed—low, dark, inviting. “Good. Been a while since I broke something.”
He swung first, predictable as hell—a wild haymaker aimed at my jaw.
I ducked it easy, stepped in, and drove my elbow into his throat. He choked, staggered back, and I didn’t wait—slammed my fist into his gut, doubling him over.
Busted Nose moved next, faster, coming at me with a shank pulled from God-knows-where. I caught his wrist, twisted hard until I heard the snap, and kicked his legs out from under him. He hit the concrete face-first, howling.
The third guy didn’t even look up—just kept staring at the floor like it was a movie.
Swastika recovered, lunging at me again, but I sidestepped, grabbed the back of his head, and smashedhis face into the bars. Blood sprayed, hot and wet, and he crumpled, groaning.
Busted Nose was still down, clutching his wrist, cursing through gritted teeth. I stood over them, breathing steady, knuckles stinging just enough to feel good.
“Next time,” I said, wiping blood off my lip where Swastika had grazed me, “bring friends who can fight.” Then I stomped Busted Nose’s other wrist and heard it snap.
The cell went quiet—except for the junkie on the bunk, who finally glanced up, muttered, “Fuckin’ psycho,” and went back to staring at nothing.
I leaned against the bars, adrenaline buzzing under my skin, and let my mind drift again. Back to her. That kiss. The way her lips had parted, soft and stunned, like she hadn’t known she could feel that alive. I hadn’t either—not in years. Maybe never. Didn’t matter. I’d done it, and now it was in me, an itch I couldn’t scratch from a cell.
The cops wanted me to rot here? Fine. Let them try. I’d sit in this shithole, break every asshole they threw at me, and wait it out.
My brothers would come eventually—Marcus with his plans, Atlas with his quiet fury, Ryker with his chaos. They’d bring the lawyer, the money, the pull to make this disappear. But I wasn’t calling them. Not yet. I wanted the weight of it—the cuffs, the bars, the blood on my hands. Wanted to feel it settle into my bones, remind me who I was.
Because out there, in that courtyard, I’d saved her. Ended a threat. And then I’d kissed her like she was mine.
Maybe she was.
Maybe I’d find out.
But for now, I’d stew. Let the law do its dance. Let the hardasses come at me again. I didn’t care. I’d take it all—every punch, every charge, every second of this bullshit—and walk out grinning when it was done.
Because I’d seen her eyes.
And I wasn’t letting that go.
Not for a fucking second.
5
HALLIE MAE
Istepped out of the shower in my apartment and wrapped myself in a towel. My skin was still cold underneath, even though I’d stood under the hot water until it turned lukewarm, hoping it would burn away the night. It hadn’t.
Nothing could.
The bruises weren’t on me, but I felt them anyway—in my bones, in my breath. And not just from what had happened. From him.
That kiss.
Lord, have mercy.
I sat on the edge of the tub, hair dripping down my back, phone in my lap. I’d dried off just enough to be decent, but I couldn’t bring myself to get dressed yet. Everything felt too heavy. Too loud.
The police had called again twenty minutes ago. They were “requesting” I come down to the station to make a formal statement. Deputy Mendez said it could wait till morning if I needed, but her voice had the kind of tone that meant they’d rather it didn’t.
So here I was, staring at the name in my contacts I hadn’t called since Easter Sunday.
Daddy.
