Sniper Elite 7 Novels & Stories

“Three shots. All to the heart. Clean, precise hits.” Alejandro stared at the photos, his hands slowly tightening. “The killer was positioned in a nearby building overlooking the church,” Silva said. “Professional work. Military-level accuracy.” Alejandro’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Who did it?” “That’s the hard part,” Silva replied. He pulled out more documents and spread them across the desk. “It took months, but I tracked down the sniper. Former special forces. Now he works for a private assassination network in Eastern Europe.”

At that range, there was only one type of weapon that could be both effective and portable—a sniper rifle. "Have you figured it out? Yes, we have sniper rifles! But they're not just any rifles. They are foreign-made heavy sniper rifles called 'Beast.' With an effective range of three miles, they can fire .78 caliber rounds. "They can tear through tanks and armored vehicles, let alone people. We've tested them. Even a Pulse Realm master would be severely wounded by one shot." Felix's expression darkened. The Council had prepared thoroughly this time. The eight masters before him were not the real problem—it was those two snipers. If what they said was true, he would have to be extremely caref

Sean looked at her and said helplessly, "It's not. Keep an eye on the tree at your 9 o'clock. No. 3 has identified the locations of the three men and he is ready to order the snipers to open fire." Eli gave an OK gesture to No. 3, who was perched on the tree. No. 3 then signaled the same to the sniper. Eli only heard seven thumps coming from afar. She didn't know what was going on. All she saw was red and yellow smoke coming from all around her. "What's the deal? Am I dead yet?" Eli asked in disbelief. Sean looked at Eli helplessly and stifled a sigh, "You won't get a reward if you die. Not even one."

With a swift movement, he unsheathed his katana the assailant's head rolled on the floor our eyes met, and he nodded. "You don't fuck with the Badurs!" Kaz shouted as he cocked his weapon, we were running out of bullets and our survival was more at stake at that moment. I checked the Glock in my hand, and it had just a few bullets left. Then Chuks suddenly grabbed his bag again and unleashed an NG7 Negev IWI 7.62mm machine gun. The Israeli light machine gun Negev NG7 7.62mm. It is the only 7.62mm caliber LMG (Light Machine Gun) in service today with semi-automatic mode, capable of pinpoint, single-bullet shooting for enhanced firing accuracy. The Negev NG7 shares almost 80% of its component

Xavier confirmed while her gaze was fixed on me. "Do I have a problem?" As Xavier's men approached the window one by one, I murmured to myself. Seven men, all shirtless and sweaty, were staring at me at the same time. Xavier said as he opened the window. "If you're fully awake, come here- we need to talk to you," he said, turning around and walking away. The rest of his group then followed him.

“Because someone just declared war on your life.” Luca finally looked up from the tablet. “Boss… there’s something else.” “What?” “The sniper rifle.” “What about it?” “It’s European military grade.” Alessandra frowned. “That’s expensive.” Luca nodded slowly. “Only a few council members could afford that kind of equipment.” Valentino’s mind began working quickly. “Names.” Luca pulled up a list. “Three suspects.” Aria leaned closer. “Who?” Luca turned the screen toward them. Three council members appeared.

Connor “What the fuck, Declan, can’t you aim your damn gun somewhere else? This equipment is expensive.” Micah throws his head back with a boisterous laugh and slaps me on the back as he and my brother wipe the blood from their gear. Declan sneers in reply as he places his weapon back into its rack. Glaring at my brother, I place my gun next to his and slip off my bloodstained t-shirt and armor. It’s six in the evening, and I’m feeling incredibly irritable from lack of sleep. We had just gotten back to the office after dealing with a target.

Taking it out again, I inspect it, turning it over and over in my hands and then I take it apart. No one knows that I am an expert shot. When I turned thirteen, one of my regular guards, Dmitri, taught me all he knew about guns. He was an ex-sniper from the Russian Elite Militia, the equivalent of the British S.A.S or American Delta Force. He knew everything about guns, and he told me I was old enough to learn that by the time I was fifteen, I could have qualified to shoot for the Russian Olympic team. The gun I have found is a collector's piece, probably worth millions of dollars, so I'm a little confused as to why it has been tossed to the back of his closet and forgotten. The JW Thompso

Lorenzo had already flattened himself behind a pillar, composure stripped clean by shock. Elena’s gaze swept the roofline across the street. East wing. Three hundred meters. Perfect elevation for an executioner. She raised her weapon. Steadied. Three shots in rapid succession—one obliterated a distant window, the next two drove the sniper back from his nest. The guards lit up the rooftop behind her. The night became a battlefield. Then silence. The shriek of tires. A black van burst from the shadows and disappeared into the city’s labyrinth before any eye could catch the plates. Police sirens wailed in the distance.

“Good.” I could picture him perfectly even without seeing him. Crouched two miles away. Hidden somewhere on the opposite mountain ridge. Watching everything through some dramatic sniper scope. He had insisted on distance. A typical Ferdinez, of course. If Aegis scanned the chalet, they couldn’t detect the full defensive team. So he and the strike unit were buried deep in snow camouflage overlooking the valley with all eight elite marksmen, thermal optics and long-range rifles to their advantage. A kill zone waiting to happen.