Artem’s life. Perhaps Artem only had himself to thank for his own death.
Assembling his rifle, Niklaus checked the scope before moving to the edge of the roof once more, his back to the brick fixture on his left.
Staring across to the restaurant, Niklaus clocked every man milling about the place, oblivious to the danger they were all in. He, especially, paid close attention to Artem, who looked to have gained a hundred pounds since the last time Niklaus had seen him. He held a glass of brown liquor in his meaty fist, the fat around his neck jiggling as he laughed boisterously at whatever one of his men was saying to him.
Seeing him so happy when Niklaus was plagued with guilt made anger simmer to life inside him, but there was no place for that. Not anymore. Exhaling, Niklaus centered his thoughts, concentrating on the present, letting his training take over.
For men that prided themselves on being untouchable, a large number of them stuck to the same routine every day, making it far too easy to learn their schedule and track them down. Niklaus had only just decided to go after one of them when he was sent to New York on an assignment and saw Artem walking the streets with his security detail. As soon as the job had ended, Niklaus had reached out to a few contacts he’d garnered over the last year, trying to get as much information as possible. Two weeks later, he knew every move Artem made and would make.
It was almost laughable how easy it had all been.
Snapping to attention, Niklaus’ gloved finger slipped around the trigger as he watched and waited.
The security rose first, keeping a uniformed line as they headed out the door first, checking for any threat on the street before their boss was to exit. Niklaus didn’t withhold his smile. The idiots never bothered to look up.
No one ever did.
Artem stepped outside, tugging at the bottom of his suit jacket as though that may help it move further down over his girth. He was smiling, gesturing wildly as his truck was pulling up.
Niklaus didn’t get anxious, just waited until Artem was lined up exactly where he needed him, the target now on his forehead.
One breath in…
Artem waved to someone…
Niklaus exhaled.
He pulled the trigger.
The rifle recoiled as the bullet shot through the chamber and out of the barrel, moving with lightning speed across the distance to land in the center of Artem’s forehead.
Pandemonium erupted as Artem’s security whipped out their guns, searching for an enemy they couldn’t see, civilians screaming as they ran for cover.
Niklaus didn’t stick around to admire his work. Disassembling his rifle in seconds—a talent he had learned from one of the best—he dropped the pieces into the bag and took off, leaving nothing behind, not even the shell casing.
Forty-five seconds from rooftop to alley…
Blood rushing in his ears, Niklaus ignored the cries of alarm, focusing more on the men barking orders in Albanian, on the hunt for him.
He’d almost cleared the alley when two of the Albanians finally caught sight of him. Niklaus kept moving, pretending like he hadn’t heard them call out. Adrenaline and rage coursed through him, a combination that didn’t prove well for the two confronting him.
This organization had taken so much from him…
He was no longer afraid.
Reaching for the gun holstered at his back, he had his finger on the trigger before the two comprehended that he was the one they wanted. He put two bullets in each of their chests before either could reach for their weapons.
Two blocks down, his car was waiting, the keys already in the ignition. It hardly looked like it ran so there hadn’t been any worry someone would try to steal it while he was on the roof.
Tossing his duffel into the backseat, he started the car, the engine roaring to life. He didn’t pull off right away, letting the comfort of his car calm him a moment before he finally put the car in drive and eased out, following the flow of
Assembling his rifle, Niklaus checked the scope before moving to the edge of the roof once more, his back to the brick fixture on his left.
Staring across to the restaurant, Niklaus clocked every man milling about the place, oblivious to the danger they were all in. He, especially, paid close attention to Artem, who looked to have gained a hundred pounds since the last time Niklaus had seen him. He held a glass of brown liquor in his meaty fist, the fat around his neck jiggling as he laughed boisterously at whatever one of his men was saying to him.
Seeing him so happy when Niklaus was plagued with guilt made anger simmer to life inside him, but there was no place for that. Not anymore. Exhaling, Niklaus centered his thoughts, concentrating on the present, letting his training take over.
For men that prided themselves on being untouchable, a large number of them stuck to the same routine every day, making it far too easy to learn their schedule and track them down. Niklaus had only just decided to go after one of them when he was sent to New York on an assignment and saw Artem walking the streets with his security detail. As soon as the job had ended, Niklaus had reached out to a few contacts he’d garnered over the last year, trying to get as much information as possible. Two weeks later, he knew every move Artem made and would make.
It was almost laughable how easy it had all been.
Snapping to attention, Niklaus’ gloved finger slipped around the trigger as he watched and waited.
The security rose first, keeping a uniformed line as they headed out the door first, checking for any threat on the street before their boss was to exit. Niklaus didn’t withhold his smile. The idiots never bothered to look up.
No one ever did.
Artem stepped outside, tugging at the bottom of his suit jacket as though that may help it move further down over his girth. He was smiling, gesturing wildly as his truck was pulling up.
Niklaus didn’t get anxious, just waited until Artem was lined up exactly where he needed him, the target now on his forehead.
One breath in…
Artem waved to someone…
Niklaus exhaled.
He pulled the trigger.
The rifle recoiled as the bullet shot through the chamber and out of the barrel, moving with lightning speed across the distance to land in the center of Artem’s forehead.
Pandemonium erupted as Artem’s security whipped out their guns, searching for an enemy they couldn’t see, civilians screaming as they ran for cover.
Niklaus didn’t stick around to admire his work. Disassembling his rifle in seconds—a talent he had learned from one of the best—he dropped the pieces into the bag and took off, leaving nothing behind, not even the shell casing.
Forty-five seconds from rooftop to alley…
Blood rushing in his ears, Niklaus ignored the cries of alarm, focusing more on the men barking orders in Albanian, on the hunt for him.
He’d almost cleared the alley when two of the Albanians finally caught sight of him. Niklaus kept moving, pretending like he hadn’t heard them call out. Adrenaline and rage coursed through him, a combination that didn’t prove well for the two confronting him.
This organization had taken so much from him…
He was no longer afraid.
Reaching for the gun holstered at his back, he had his finger on the trigger before the two comprehended that he was the one they wanted. He put two bullets in each of their chests before either could reach for their weapons.
Two blocks down, his car was waiting, the keys already in the ignition. It hardly looked like it ran so there hadn’t been any worry someone would try to steal it while he was on the roof.
Tossing his duffel into the backseat, he started the car, the engine roaring to life. He didn’t pull off right away, letting the comfort of his car calm him a moment before he finally put the car in drive and eased out, following the flow of
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