Sniper Elite 7 Novels & Stories

“Sebastian...” Then the anesthesia pulled her under again. He exhaled like air was finally allowed back into his lungs. Jameson arrived soon after, fury locked behind quiet control. Sam didn’t stop working, he was on his tablet, pulling feeds, security recordings, encrypted chatter, everything. Back at the estate, the Hart's security teams continued sweeping. The sniper’s gun had been found discarded, wiped clean but still informative. He’d used professional suppressors, glass-optimized optics, and tactical positioning. This wasn’t a desperate shot.

"You know what, Marcel? I've decided to make peace with you. I won't cause Mom and Dad any more trouble because of this." "Sure," I answered lightly. He continued, "To show you my sincerity, I'd like to give you a gift. Stay right here for a moment. I'll be right back. Don't move around, okay?" I nodded again and stood still, waiting for him, just as he wanted. When I saw Henry enter the small surveillance room connected to the swimming pool, I couldn't help but smile. I knew he wouldn't disappoint me—he was planning to kill me. A few minutes later, he returned empty-handed. I pretended not to know anything, saving him from any questions.

If my tiredness vanishes after this song, then I might include it before we wrap everything up in this karaoke session. "Just like nicotine, heroin, morphine. Suddenly, I'm a fiend and you're all I need. All I need. Yeah, you're all I need. It's you, babe. And I'm a sucker for the way that you move, babe. And I could try to run, but it would be useless. You're to blame. Just one hit of you, I knew I'll never be the same."

Percy yelled out and the guy's hand froze on the image, as well as every other person in the room as their eyes focused on the image the black guy has his pointer on. " Not that, the one on its left, " Percy directed when he realized the guy's pointer was on the wrong image. The dark guy moved his pointer to the left and then zoomed in on the right image. The name Snipper was written under the guy with buzz-cut amber hair color, piercing green eyes, sharp cheekbones, strong square jaw, slightly wide neck covered in tattoos, and a pale skin complexion. He is twenty-eight years old Sniper is a former military discharge cause of a knee injury turned gun for higher just to survive recruited by t

Each one stacked neatly atop the other, marked only by numbers and cryptic symbols. "What the hell is this place?" Vargo muttered, almost reverently. I moved to the nearest crate, my curiosity overriding my hesitation. The old wood creaked as I pried the lid open. Nestled within, surrounded by foam and cloth, was a sniper rifle unlike anything I'd ever seen. Sleek. Matte black. Modified beyond standard military specs. I reached in and lifted it carefully. Its weight was solid. Cold. Deadly. "The Viper-X," I read the label etched along the barrel.

Something in his chest twisted sharply. Up in the helicopter, Jodie was still crying and struggling. “Sis… please help me! Sis, help me!” Her sobs echoed in the morning light. Joseph, unbothered, stood nearby with a relaxed smile, just watching. He knew Sean’s snipers were using red dot scopes—precision targeting. Even if a target moved suddenly or tried to dodge, they could still land a kill shot right between the eyes. Under these conditions, escape was nearly impossible. Joseph and his men wouldn’t survive if they tried to run. The snipers were too fast, too well-trained.

“Then lead the way.” Roman had been in ambushes before. He had commanded men, walked through blood and fire, and stared the worst devils in the eye. But nothing, nothing, felt like this. Elena stepped in front of him, her body still battered, stitches threatening to rip, but her mind razor sharp, eyes moving like she was reading an invisible map only she could see. Her voice dropped low, controlled, “Three snipers. One on the west platform. One on the broken crane. One inside the tower window. They’re shifting in a triangular perimeter.”

"There's a sniper on the building across from you, northwest corner. He's got you pinned." "Copy that," Elena's voice crackled back, breathless but grateful. "Can you see his position clearly?" "Yes. He moves to reload every thirty seconds. Next window is in... fifteen seconds." I watched with fierce satisfaction as Elena used the information to reposition and take out the sniper with a single, well-placed shot. One threat down, but too many remaining. In the alley, Mickey had dispatched two more mercenaries, but reinforcements were arriving. Through our bond, I felt his frustration—he was powerful enough to handle these attackers, but protecting the building and his pack simultaneously was

With the New Chesire Group office building as the center were a total of eight sniping points and 26 sniping weapons within a radius of 2000 meters. They pulled the trigger simultaneously, at the same time. The weapon was a JS IV. A uniquely shaped, pike-shaped projectile distorted the air and traveled at a terrifying speed far beyond the speed of sound, zipping toward Vandalf on the stage. "Bingo!" The moment the trigger was pulled, a young man in a yellow casual suit clenched his fists in excitement on the observation deck about a kilometer away from the launch site.

They punched and kicked me every day, using me to vent their anger. I saw Jeffrey's body start to tremble. He couldn’t take it anymore? There were more. "Later, they couldn't get the money and slowly lost their patience. Whips, steel needles, clubs, and the curling iron that I brought in my bag that day are all their tools. After my curling iron was electrified, they put it on my skin. I could smell the burning smell." The more I said, the more depressed Jeffrey became. He was afraid to look at me. Yet what he was afraid most was that in the blink of an eye, I would be gone, conflicted and agonized.