Working with a partner meant tolerating distractions.

Slade had spent most of his career avoiding them.

The rooftop was cold beneath his knee as he settled into position, rifle balanced steadily against the concrete ledge. Across the street, the target’s penthouse windows glowed warm against the dark skyline, unaware of the quiet surveillance happening several stories away.

Wind tugged lightly at the edge of his coat.

His eye remained fixed on the scope.

Every movement inside the apartment sharpened into perfect clarity.

Then he heard it.

Not loud. Not careless.

Just the subtle shift of someone leaning a little too close beside him.

Slade didn’t move immediately.

He finished adjusting the scope, breath slow and controlled, before his attention finally slid sideways.

“You know,” he said evenly, voice low enough not to carry beyond the rooftop, “most people take a mission briefing as a suggestion to focus.”

His finger rested loosely against the trigger guard.

A faint pause followed.

Then the corner of his mouth twitched just slightly.

“Flirting with the sniper isn’t exactly standard procedure.”

His eye returned to the scope.

“Not that I’m offended.”

Another beat of silence passed before he added dryly,

“But if I miss the shot, I’m blaming you.”