Sniper Mask And Kuon Novels & Stories

This mask isn’t just fashionable, it was designed by Black Eagle and must be handled delicately. Unlike any of the other masks mine has been outfitted with a transmitter, as well as a small computer system designed to send information through nearly invisible lenses. It's so specialized that I know Katelyn Rose had to have crafted it, even though it was “Ms Smith” who handed it to me.

I purred, my voice laced in sarcasm as I pouted my lips. “Aww... Poor, lonely Enzo.” He scowled, his deep voice cutting through the air. “Wear your damn mask.” I rolled my eyes and held my mask. It had a peacock design, with feathers affixed to the sides. Golden detailing lined the edges, giving it a delicate yet exotic look. I put it on, and it shielded my features, except for my eyes and lips. I turned to look at him. His mask was the design of a wolf, its expression a scowl just like the one he carried permanently on his face. The only covered parts of his face were his forehead and eyelids. His eyes, nose, and mouth were exposed.

Hidden beneath spare weapons and medical supplies lay a dark cloak and mask that would transform me into someone else entirely—someone who could fight openly against the Rogue forces without compromising my cover. The mask bore no identifying marks, just smooth black material. The cloak was equally nondescript, dark fabric that would blend with shadows while concealing my body shape and movements. The dark fabric settled over my shoulders like a second skin. The mask fit perfectly, reducing my vision to narrow slits but hiding every recognizable feature. Above me, the battle raged. Penelope led the main assault from the western ridge, her red hair bright against the sky. Dominic commanded th

“Is that a man in a ski mask in our living room?” Zli kicks off his shoes with a weary sigh. “Yeah... Phoebe, this is Ronan Hwan. He’s a captain in the Crimson Dragons, and he took a bullet for me tonight.” Phoebe’s eyes widen until they look like saucers. “A gangster? Zli, I thought you were doing forensic audits for the government! I assumed you were just a high-stakes nerd! You told me the 'Mike' alias was for a boring white-collar sting!”

But over Kiera’s shoulder, down the shadowed hall she’d entered, masks winked alive like cold moons. Hunters. Three, then five, then a half dozen—helmets, rifles, tactical lights. Dr. Hale wasn’t there, but his orders were; they coalesced in the precise way the men moved, in the angle of barrels, in the way the vanguard raised a device instead of a gun. Ronan’s choices narrowed to a wire.