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“It’s okay, Dante,” Marco replied, his tone sickening me. “You can admit it. Ellie’s got a way of getting under your skin. Why do you think I want her back? She’s got a tight little cunt that’s worth sinking into, but you know that already, don’t you?”
“Keep her name out of your fucking mouth,” Dante snarled, and his fury took me strangely aback.
I watched as Dante reacted with lightning-fast reflexes, drawing his Beretta in one smooth motion.
Crouched in the shadows of the rafters, I scanned the area, my eyes adjusting to dismal light quickly and what I saw next made me freeze in place.
Fuck.
I wasn’t alone.
There was another man up here in the rafters with me, dressed in all black with a sniper rifle pointed straight down at Dante and Rafael. I swallowed hard.
I had to make my move before he made his.
Cautiously, I moved closer to where the man was perched, grateful that his focus was intently directed toward Dante, Rafael, and Marco down below. His position gave him a clear line of sight—and the assault rifle in his hands meant business.
As I crept up behind him, I spotted a handgun lying nearby, carelessly left within reach. My heart pounded as I silently picked it up. It was a SIG Sauer P226, a model I was familiar with. The weight of the gun felt reassuring in my hand, and a strange sense of empowerment washed over me.
I could tell that it was loaded.
Good.
Holding the handgun steadily, I pointed it at the sniper. My hands were steady, despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I knew I had only one chance to get this right. The gravity of what I was about to do weighed heavily on me, but the lives of Dante and Rafael—and potentially myself—depended on this single moment.
I took a deep breath and steadied my aim.
I had to act.
With a deep calming breath, I steeled myself and pulled the trigger.
The sound of the gunshot was deafening, reverberating throughout the warehouse like a volley of extremely violent thunder and I flinched at the sound, but only for a fraction of a second.
The bullet found its mark, hitting the sniper squarely in the back of the head. He didn’t even see it coming. There wasn’t even enough time for him to turn around and look at me.
Honestly, I preferred it that way. I didn’t want to see the look in his eyes when he died.
Instantly, the warehouse erupted into chaos. I quickly ducked back into the shadows, concealing myself among the rafters, my heart racing as shouts echoed from down below on the ground.
Without missing a beat, Dante fired his gun at Marco. The bullet struck Marco in the arm, and he staggered back, pain and surprise etched all over his face. He gritted his teeth, biting back a snarl of agony.
He deserved that.
Fuck. He deserved worse.
Rafael was right behind Dante, his own gun drawn. “Take cover!” he yelled, and both men dove behind a pile of broken machinery just as return fire erupted from Marco’s men. Bullets ricocheted off metal surfaces, sparks flying in all directions.
I peered through the gaps in the rafters, afraid to see what was happening below, but unable to look away.
I spotted Dante and Rafael hunkered down behind cover, firing back at Marco’s men. It was a tense standoff, and I found myself praying that they would both make it out of there alive.
My gaze fell on the fallen sniper and his assault rifle.
I got an idea.
I crawled forward and reached for it. Clutching it tightly, I moved closer to the edge and peered down at the battle below.
Marco’s voice boomed over the gunfire.
