Chapter 72

But first, he had to fucking focus on the actions—which he’d performed hundreds of times—not the stakes. If he thought about the consequences for fucking up, he’d never succeed.

Dragging in one more breath, One-Mile forcibly cleared his mind to steady himself and froze, hyper-focused. He didn’t blink or hesitate. And he definitely didn’t let Montilla climb on top of the girl. He merely curled his finger around the trigger and squeezed.

Through the scope, he watched the asshole for the pure thrill, but he didn’t need to wait the fraction of a second it took for the bullet to plow into the fucker’s temple to know he’d hit his mark. It was done.

Montilla was finally dead.

As the dr*g lord crumpled to the ground and the redhead screamed, One-Mile closed the window and packed up his equipment with an economy of movement, hurrying without rushing. When he was done, he slung everything on his back, wiped every surface he’d touched clean, pulled his hoodie over his f