Sniper: Ultimate Kill [WORKING]

"He’s got a thermal," Beckett muttered. "He's waiting for us to sweat." "Then don't," Miller replied.

Beckett stood up, his joints popping like gunfire. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and looked toward the horizon. The ghost was gone, but in the jungle, the silence never lasted long. Sniper: Ultimate Kill

Beckett didn't cheer. He didn't move. He stayed on the glass, watching the tower until the dust settled. "He’s got a thermal," Beckett muttered

The sun over the Colombian jungle didn’t just shine; it weighed on you like a wet wool blanket. Marine Sergeant Brandon Beckett lay motionless in the high grass, his breathing so shallow it barely disturbed the barrel of his rifle. He wasn't just hunting a man; he was hunting a ghost. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and

The recoil punched his shoulder. Before the sound could even echo off the surrounding hills, the glass glint in the bell tower vanished.

In the tower, the shadow shifted. A muzzle rose. Beckett had a split second—the space between heartbeats. He didn't think about the politics or the cartel money. He thought about the lead. He exhaled, feeling the "natural respiratory pause" his father had taught him a lifetime ago. Crack.

About The Author

Murjani Rawls

Murjani is the senior writer, editor, and lead critic at Substream Magazine with a decade of expertise focusing on music, film, television, pop culture, and sports. He is also a food and culture reporter for NJ.com/The Star Ledger. Previously, Murjani was the inaugural culture editor at DraftKings Network/Vox Media, staff writer at The Root, and senior writer/editor at The Pop Break. He's also a photographer, podcast producer, and five-time self-published author. His advocacy has been featured in Time Magazine, Poynter, and Axios. He is a member of the Critics Choice Association and WGA East.