Angel Eyes

“What are you doing here?” John said, his voice going cold.

Aria peeked out from behind him. “What’s wrong, John? Do you know him?”

“I’ll tell you later, Aria. Not now,” John replied. His fists clenched as Rina and Ryo stepped between them, trying to de-escalate the situation.

The guard raised both hands slowly. “Don’t worry, John,” he said. “I’m just Sera’s bodyguard. I’m not here to pick a fight with you.”

Without a word, John took Aria by the wrist and led her through the emergency exit, never taking his eyes off the guard, who only smiled back at him.

*****

Outside the gala, John gripped Aria’s wrist harder, pulling her toward the car they had arrived in.

“You’re hurting me, John,” Aria said. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?”

John opened the car door. “Get in. We’ll leave once your sister comes.” He then turned on his phone and called Mei.

“Hey, John. How was—”

“Listen to me carefully, Mei,” John cut in. “Find everything you can on a former SEAL named Vincent Reed. He’s somehow behind all of this.”

“How do you know it’s him?” Mei asked. “Did something happen? Did you find anything—”

“Just find me the info,” John said firmly, ending the call.

When Rina arrived and got into the car, it pulled away from the curb. As the car was passing through the street, silence settled inside the car.

Aria watched John’s reflection in the side mirror—his index finger resting against his lower lip, his gaze distant, lost in thought. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay, John? What got into you?”

His eyes then drifted to two kids playing soccer with each other in the street. The sight dragged him years into the past—back to when he was still in the military, serving alongside his brother.

John exhaled slowly. “It was long time ago,” he said. “But I remember it clearly.”

*****

Their car passed a few children playing in the street. “John, like it or not, this is a joint operation,” Dylan said.

John replied, “I don’t know why, but I feel weird about him.”

It was ten years ago. We were in the Middle East, tasked with taking out a terrorist leader. It was a joint operation between the Army and the SEALs. We were both U.S. forces, but there was always a level of competition over which unit was better.

That was where we first met him.

A SEAL sniper named Vincent Reed. Codename: Angel Eyes.

They called him that because of his striking blue eyes. He was exceptional at what he did, but something about him felt wrong to me. I couldn’t tell if it was the wide grin he wore every time he killed someone or the crow tattoo on his forearm, with the bleeding beak.

One day, we were en route to a valley. Our intel said the high-value target was passed through that valley on Tuesdays, early morning. The reason we didn’t bomb the area on a Tuesday was because an elementary school was nearby. We were ordered to eliminate him and his men without harming any civilians.

Dylan continued, “Once this mission is over, we go our separate ways, and you won’t be seeing him again anytime soon.”

John replied, “I don’t like him, but I won’t do anything to jeopardize the mission.”

“That’s my brother,” Dylan said, elbowing the soldier beside him. “See? Told you our Johnny boy wouldn’t do anything stupid.”

“Stop calling me that stupid name,” John replied.

Dylan and the others laughed.

*****

When they reached their destination, they dismounted the Humvee.

“Oh God, it’s hot out here,” Dylan said. “How were those kids playing in this boiling heat?”

John answered, “They live here. They’re used to it. We’ll walk the rest of the way to the nest up that mountain, overlooking the valley.”

After hiding the vehicle, they continued on foot until they reached a command tent at the top of the mountain. Once they arrived, they saw two SEALs playing cards with each other.

“Where’s Vincent?” John asked.

“He’s out in the bushes,” one of them replied. “Looking for a sniping spot.”

As he said that, Vincent emerged from the other side of the tent—his rifle slung over his shoulder, completely naked except for his boots. A trident SEAL tattoo was inked across his left chest.

Dylan stared. “Hey, bro… I don’t think camouflage works that way.”

Vincent smirked. “Saw you Army idiots climbing up here, so I figured I’d flash you. Makes it easier to find me. I was sweating like crazy out there. Took everything off to cool down.”

John didn’t react. He stared straight into Vincent’s eyes. “Did you find a spot?”

“Yeah,” Vincent replied casually. “Good, quiet place. Sun at my back, beautiful valley view in front.”

John turned to the others. “Unpack your bags and check your equipment for tomorrow’s op.”

*****

That night, as they warmed up canned food, the men gathered around, arm-wrestling each other—Team Army versus Team SEALs. John stood off to the side, smoking, his eyes fixed on the valley below.

“Come on, Johnny boy,” Vincent called, slamming his arm down on the table. “Test your strength with me.”

John shot him a sideways glance, but before he could move, Dylan stepped in and took the seat across from Vincent. “As long as the older brother’s here,” Dylan said, “the younger one doesn’t need to lift a muscle.” Vincent chuckled. “Lucky him.” His eyes flicked to John. “Lucky you.” As Dylan and Vincent struggled, Dylan grunted, “Save some of that strength for tomorrow, Vin.”

Vincent laughed. “I’ve been itching to shoot something for three days now. Can’t wait to release some of this pent-up frustration.” John said flatly, “Make sure you only shoot the main targets.” Vincent, still locked in the arm wrestle, replied, “I don't care. They’re all terrorists to me.”

John’s voice hardened. “Do that, and I’ll put a bullet in the back of your head, right then and there.” Vincent jerked upright, releasing Dylan’s hand. “Since when did you become a terrorist lover, John?” he snapped. “Did you forget what these bastards did to our country? The towers? Those people were innocent civilians.”

“That’s not a justification for killing innocents,” John shot back. “Don’t put your bloodlust on the mission. We are not like them.”

Vincent stepped closer, his voice dropping. “But we are exactly like them, Johnny boy. There are no good guys or bad guys in real life—just people with different goals and opposing sides. We’re the villains in their story, just like they’re the villains in ours.”

His gaze flicked to Dylan. “I’d expect that kind of talk from someone who only watched that day on the news—from another state, another country. Not from you two. You suffered that day more than most.” Dylan said nothing. He just sat there, head lowered.

After a long moment of tension, John spoke. “Eat your meals. Get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be long.”

*****

When the next day came, they were all in position, waiting.

Morning turned into afternoon, yet there was still no sign of the target—only children walking to school, then later returning home. “Why aren’t they coming?” Vincent said over the comms.

“Our intel said early morning,” Dylan replied. “Now it’s afternoon.”

“Maybe the information was faulty or outdated,” John said. “Update base and request follow-up instructions.”

They waited as the command tent contacted base over comms. “Base says the source is burned,” the operator reported. “We’re ordered to fall back.”

John exhaled. “You heard them. The op is canceled. Retreat to the tent.”

“No,” Vincent said suddenly. “I just found my target.”

Bang.

“What the—?” Dylan shouted. John raised his binoculars. His breath caught. Vincent had shot a woman in a burqa standing beside her children.

Bang.

“Jesus Christ,” one of the soldiers whispered. Another shot rang out.

John shouted, “Someone stop him!” and sprinted toward Vincent’s position.

Bang.

Vincent was firing at anyone who crossed his line of sight.

When John reached the ridge, he saw Dylan on top of Vincent, holding him down and beating him. “Have you lost your mind?” John shouted. “You’re shooting women and children!”

Vincent smiled through a bloodied mouth. “No,” he said calmly. “I’m eliminating a terrorist production line and tomorrow’s terrorists in the making.”

The others gathered around them in stunned silence.

Later, after sending their reports, base dispatched a helicopter to extract Vincent. Dylan, John, and one SEAL accompanied him to testify about what had happened.

“I’m just serving my country,” Vincent said as the helicopter lifted into the sky. “And I’d do it again.”

John stared at him for a long moment, then turned his eyes to the sky.

*****

“This is why I acted the way I did, Aria.” John told her everything as they sat aboard the jet home, his eyes fixed on the clouds drifting past the window.

Aria listened carefully to John. “What happened to him?”

John replied, “He was removed from the team and detained. Later, during the investigation phase, we were summoned to answer questions, but I don’t know the full outcome. All I heard was that he was dishonorably discharged and imprisoned.”

Aria frowned. “Wow. I can’t believe Ryo hired him as a bodyguard. To be honest, I knew Ryo had one, but I never knew who he was. I barely ever saw him.” She hesitated. “Now I don’t know if I can look at that man the same way again.”

A moment passed before Aria stepped closer to him. “Are you calm now, John? I want to ask you something.” Her tone softened, almost childlike—like a little girl asking her father for permission.

John looked at her. “What is it, Aria?” She bowed her head slightly and clasped her hands together. “It’s the weekend, John, and I want to hang out with my friends.”

John rubbed his forehead. “Someone tried to kill you at the gala yesterday, and you’re asking about hanging out with friends?”

“Oh, pretty please,” Aria said. “You said you wouldn’t stop me from going out with them. This is how I deal with stress.”

John sighed. “When I said you could go out, I didn’t realize how serious your situation was. Even now, I’m not stopping you—but I am asking you to change the location and the time. Break your usual routine.”

Aria nodded. “I get changing the place. But what time should I go?”

“How about Monday morning?” John suggested.

Aria burst out laughing. “Going out with my friends on a Monday morning? You’re funny.”

Before John could respond, Rina rushed in from the other side of the plane, tablet in hand. “I’ve scheduled a photoshoot and an interview for you this weekend.”

“Why?” Aria asked. Rina handed her the tablet. “Look for yourself.”

“Oh God,” Aria muttered.

John moved and leaned over Aria’s shoulder to see the screen. It was the cover of Fogue Magazine—a photo of John helping Aria up the stairs, her smiling up at him. The headline read:

Who Is That Bodyguard?

Did Aria Kingsley Hire Him Only for Protection or Is There More Between Them?

Rina looked at both of them. “We need to deal with this mess quickly, before it gets out of hand.”