My own optic offers a tight, slightly grainy pipe of video, every shift of his scope syncing with mine and keeping us aligned without a single word.
His rifle is an Accuracy International AXMC chambered in .338 Lapua, fitted with a Schmidt and Bender 5-25 scope on a ballistic dial, a quick detach suppressor, and a match-grade chassis. The mount is zeroed at two hundred meters.
Ennio’s cheek is welded to the stock, his gloved finger barely touching the trigger. The visor overlays wind correction and a micro-adjustment matrix. He nudges the numbers into place with small, precise movements, breathing in that slow rhythm only the best snipers ever master. Through the HUD I catch the slight nod he gives me, and a soft confirmation murmurs in my ear.
A white van pulls into the loading bay beneath us and backs up. Four bundled men are dragged out one by one, heads covered in black cloth, bodies rigid with fear. Omega males, all of them captives.
The thugs move with a surprising efficiency that makes it clear this isn’t their first rodeo. They cuff the omegas and shove them into Building C through the first floor door, past the glassed second floor with its obvious sightlines.
They take them up the internal stairs to the room on the right. One alpha stays with the captives, another waits across the narrow hall in the left room. A third goes back to the car and drives away. The last one keeps watch at the first floor entrance below.
I lift my binoculars over my mask as Ennio’s scope feed hangs on the edge of my vision. Through the glass I catch the alpha in the right room forcing one omega onto the bed and ripping his pants down. The kid thrashes, kicking blindly. The alpha drives a fist into his face. The movement is fast and brutal. My hand twitches.
Ennio reports in my ear without any heat. "Not our people. Hired help." I watch the rifle steady. The moment tightens. Then he whispers, "Now."
I move before the thought finishes forming. I drop from the roof and hit the fire stairs two at a time. My vest rides comfortably against me, Level III A plates with trauma cutsabsorbing each impact. I cut through the alley, slip along the service corridor, and come up behind Building C.
Ennio stays on the rooftop, watching both me and the targets through his visor and his scope, the link still keeping us perfectly in sync.
I clear the corner just enough to peek. The guard at the first floor entrance stands relaxed and unaware. Ennio squeezes the trigger once. The suppressed crack is dry and sharp. The round catches the man high in the chest below the collarbone, dropping him without a sound. On my feed the muzzle flash is a faint spark. Ennio cycles the bolt and swings to the left room.
A half second later the alpha inside collapses like someone has had his strings cut, the round punching clean through his plate. Everything inside freezes. A half beat. Enough.
The would-be rapist shoves the omega aside and bolts for the door, panic vibrating through his movements. I see a brief glimpse of a smoky black veil crossing my vision, but I don't stop. He fires the instant he spots me in the hall. The pistol cracks, the round slamming into my vest at sternum level and knocking me back a step. The plate takes it, though pain blooms across my chest and shoulder, sharp and disorienting but manageable.
The vest buys me the moment I need. I close the distance in two quick strides.
He tries to lift the pistol again, but I rotate under the muzzle, strike his wrist, lever the arm down and across, and use his own momentum to pivot him. My hand locks on the back of his neck and I wrench. The vertebrae give way under my grip. It is over in less than two breaths.
I clear his weapon, drop the empty frame, and step into the right room. The four omegas tremble, hoods still clinging to their faces, soaked with the smell of sweat and fear. When I pullthe cloth away, their faces are pale, their eyes red, and they’re shaking from shock.
I keep my hands visible, my voice low, almost soft. "You’re safe now. You’re out. We’re not them. Stand up slowly. Come with me."
They stare at me and say nothing. Maybe it’s because I still have my mask on.
"We have to move now."
Still nothing.
"The fourth guy could be back any minute."
That finally gets them moving. But the one who was hit by the alpha is in bad shape, curled up on the bed, barely holding himself together, shaking.
"Hey," I say, kneeling next to him. The kid has long dark hair, his lips swollen from the blow, blood smeared on his chin. "I’m here to help you, to get you out. I promise you, from now on nothing bad will happen. Please, come with me."
His dark eyes stare back at me, wet and glassy.
"It’s okay, I promise." I whisper, and reach out my hand.
Finally, his thin fingers twitch and he grabs my palm.
I help him to his feet and support him as we leave the room.
I keep scanning left, right, corners, vents. The hallway stays clear.
Before I can get the omegas down the stairs, shaky and slow as they are, Ennio is off the roof and at the car, engine running, lights off.
He’s already made the call while I was moving, a short message to an anonymous contact in the local force, whom he only calls ‘A’. When I reach the car, he simply says, "Contact is in. Coastar Park, Rose Alley. Drop them there and leave. No names given."
