Eight hundred meters away, hidden in the dark window of a half abandoned building, Nicky had been waiting. Watching. Reading Booker's lips and keeping his cross hairs on the woman he'd once loved almost as much as he loved his husband. He watching Joe's words, watched his body and his eyes, and when Quynh moved to grab for that blade, Nicky didn't hesitate.

His finger squeezed the cross he'd etched into the metal of his trigger. There was a sound that would not carry the distance to their ears, the scent of cordite in the air, and then Nicky was sliding the bolt back to police his shells and load another round into the chamber.

Eight hundred meters away, Quynh's head snapped forward as the bullet hit her just above her left ear. She crumpled, but he didn't have time to shoot the dagger out of the air.