Shooters for Hire: I Thought He Was a Photographer

Bounty: 0-000k. Target active tomorrow.

The notification flashes on my screen.

My fingers blur across the glass.

Sage: [Me! Mine! Im going!]

I think this is a photography club. Its actually a chat for contract killers.

Dante types back instantly. Dante: [Think it through. This industry is brutal for women. You could get hurt.]

I scoff. A total red flag, but I need that shot.

I hammer the keys. Sage: [I dont care about the risk. I do this for the passion.]

Dante pauses. He buys it. Dante: [Fine. Bring your tools. Show me what you can do.]

Showtime.

Next day. Designated drop zone.

I heave my massive camera bag onto my shoulder.

Then I see him. The Admin.

Dante isnt just a killer. Hes drop-dead gorgeous.

He freezes.

His eyes lock onto the massive Canon R5 in my grip.

Dead silence.

"You planning to bludgeon the target with that camera?"

Me: ?

Chapter 1

Lets rewind.

Thirty seconds after I sent that enthusiastic "Me!", the lurkers popped up in the chat.

User A: [Newbie?]

User B: [How's the technique? Can you work solo?]

User C: [Tsk. Too late.]

I smirked at my screen.

Im actually pretty confident in my skills. Ive taken "god-tier" photos that went viral on Twitter. I know my angles.

But Im new to the group. Gotta keep it humble.

Sage: [My technique is okay. Definitely can't compare to you veterans yet.]

The vibe in the group was surprisingly wholesome. No gatekeeping here. They immediately started comforting me.

User A: [Don't worry. Just take more gigs. Practice makes perfect.]

User B: [Exactly. My first time out, I couldn't even get a clean headshot. Now? One shot, one kill.]

I stroked the cold barrel of my massive telephoto lens. Relatable.

The first time I handled a long-focus lens, I was a mess. My hands shook, the focus breathed. Now? I can frame a portrait perfectly from a hundred yards away. Stable hands are everything.

We chatted back and forth for a bit. Then, my mind drifted back to the important part.

The money.

Sage: [Question for the seniors. Is the bonus paid every time, or is that just a new hire perk?]

Confusion erupted in the chat.

User A: [What kind of question is that? Of course its every time.]

User B: [Who would do this for free? Its dirty, exhausting, and dangerous.]

User C: [Wait you didn't get paid before?]

I almost cried. Sage: [Never!]

The group was shook.

User A: [Then why did you keep taking jobs?]

User B: [What for??]

I looked down at my expensive camera gear.

I stayed silent for a few seconds, thinking about the frozen nights, the security guards chasing me, the hours of editing.

Sage: [I guess for the love of the game.]

Chapter 2

Silence fell over the group chat.

I could practically taste the reverence radiating through the screen.

Sure enough, half a minute later, the chat filled with "Salute" emojis. A whole wall of them.

I felt a little bashful.

Sage: [It's really nothing. This line of work brings me a lot of happiness.]

Sage: [I like it. I'm willing to work for passion, even without pay.]

I hit send.

For some reason, the group went even quieter.

Even the emojis stopped.

Don't they like being photographers?

I was puzzled.

But then I thought about it. Since they get a hefty bonus every time, this is basically just a payroll job to them.

Figures. The moment a hobby turns into a grind, the fun dies. They probably lost their spark years ago.

The silence stretched on. I started to get anxious. Maybe the veterans hate wide-eyed rookies like me.

But I was wrong.

Suddenly, they were applauding me.

User A: [I've seen people forced into this life. Never seen someone choose it for the passion.]

User B: [Bro, you are going to be a legend.]

I blushed. Sage: [I'm a girl, actually.]

The group went dead silent.

A few seconds later, the messages exploded like a tsunami.

User A: [It's too dangerous for a little lady to go out alone! I'll take you!]

User B: [Look at me, sweetheart! My hands are rock steady! My sniping is top tier!]

User C: [Bullshit! You're blind as a bat! You can't tell a target from a stray dog at thirty meters!]

User B: [Still better than you! You've got the shakes! Your shooting looks like you're painting by numbers!]

The group descended into chaos. Everyone was fighting for the right to be my mentor.

Finally, the Admin stepped in to end the debate.

Dante: [I will take her.]

Chapter 3

Holy crap. Private coaching from the Big Boss on day one?

I was vibrating with excitement.

My phone buzzed. A DM from Dante. Dante: [Memorize the time and location.]

I replied instantly. On it.

He stayed silent for a few seconds before typing again. Dante: [You should really think this through. This industry is brutal for women. Its not a good path.]

I sighed. Here we go with the lecture.

Sage: [The economy is trash right now. It's brutal everywhere.]

Sage: [Compared to a soul-sucking 9-to-5, doing something I actually love feels like a win.]

Dante didnt reply to that. He probably couldn't argue with the recession. He stopped trying to talk me out of it and just sent the coordinates.

The next morning, I arrived at the rendezvous pointthe rooftop terrace of a commercial high-rise.

I was early. Dante wasn't there yet.

The winter air was biting. I rubbed my hands together, trying to unzip my camera bag.

Of course, the zipper jammed. A loose thread caught in the teeth.

I tugged at it. Nothing.

Just as I was debating running downstairs to beg the receptionist for scissors, the heavy metal door to the roof creaked open.

I looked up instinctively.

My breath hitched.

Holy shit. Did I accidentally book a male model?

The man was dressed in head-to-toe black. Tall. Lean. Dangerous. A baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes, but the aura screaming "hot guy" was impossible to miss.

I froze.

In the few seconds it took for my brain to reboot, he was already standing in front of me.

"Sage?"

His voice was deep, gravelly.

I blinked, stunned. "Admin?"

Dante gave a low hum of confirmation. His dark eyes swept over me, top to bottom. His brows knitted together in a severe frown.

"You came to the mission looking like this?"

I felt a pang of guilt.

Okay, fair point. Yesterday, when I looked up the target, I realized he wasn't a celebrity. Just some low-tier influencer selling shakes on Instagram. A nobody. So, I only brought one camera bag. I planned to snap two pics and dip.

"I my technique is actually really good," I stammered, trying to defend my professionalism. "One camer"

"It doesn't matter how good you are if you dress like that."

Dante snatched the hat off his head and jammed it onto mine. He looked frustrated. Borderline angry.

"You didn't cover your face. That's bad enough. But a neon orange puffer? Are you trying to be a walking bullseye?"

Huh?

Since when does photography have a dress code?

"This color doesn't show dirt" I explained weakly.

Then I actually looked at his face. Unobscured by the hat.

My voice died in my throat.

Damn.

With a face like that, why is he a fansite admin? He should be the one in front of the lens. He could debut tomorrow and crush every idol in the industry.

Dante clicked his tongue, snapping me out of my trance. "Did no one teach you before you entered the industry? Safety first. Who cares if it gets dirty?"

I snapped back to reality and rubbed my nose. "No one taught me"

Dante paused. His voice went up an octave. "No one?"

"Yeah."

I'm not a photography major. Im self-taught. Took a few masterclasses online. I do this for passion, not a degree. It's enough to get the shot.

I peeked at his expression. Does this industry have a Harvard requirement or something?

"It is a miracle you have managed to stay alive this long," Dante said, sounding genuinely baffled.

He sighed, a heavy sound in the cold air. He looked at me with intense seriousness. "This job is hard. I'll handle the order today. You go back and leave the group."

Chapter 4

"Excuse me?"

I glared at him, hands finding my hips. "Ive been grinding in this industry for two or three years. Im not some nobody. I have a reputation. Who are you to tell me to quit?"

Dante looked at me like Id just claimed to be the Queen of England. "You? Famous?"

"Yes!" I doubled down. "Ask around. People know the name Sage."

Just last month, I dropped a viral snow photoshoot of a rising starlet. Twitter went feral. My edits were god-tier.

Dante saw I wasn't backing down. He sighed, rubbing his temple.

"Fine. Let's see your level."

He pointed to the office building across the street. "Target exits the car at the plaza at 0900. Seize the chance."

I scanned the environment. I shook my head immediately. "No good. The angle is trash."

"Why?"

"It's too steep," I explained professionally. "Itll make the subject look like a garden gnome. Five feet tall, max. Totally unflattering."

Dante raised an eyebrow. He pointed to a mid-rise building on the flank. "There?"

I did a quick mental calculation. "Nope. Obstructions."

"It has a clear line of sight," he argued.

"Too many tree branches in the foreground. Do you know how long it takes to Photoshop that mess out? Its a nightmare. Im not spending three hours clone stamping leaves."

Dante studied me. Really studied me. "And you're sure no one trained you?"

I nodded proudly. "Pure passion, baby."

He fell silent for a moment, looking deep in thought. "Work for me. Starting now."

I paused.

What does that mean?

Joining his private studio?

Not a bad idea.

The economy is tanking. Jobs are scarce. Judging by the group chat bonuses, his studio is printing money. Plus, I get to stare at his face every day.

Win-win.

I cleared my throat, trying to sound business-savvy. "I'm interested," I said cautiously. "But I have questions."

"Go on."

"Whats the salary structure?"

He blinked.

"Is there a performance bonus?" I pressed on. "And most importantly do you offer full benefits? Health, dental, vision? 401k matching?"

Dante: ?

He stared at me like I had just grown a second head.

The silence stretched on. His expression was so bewildered I started to doubt myself.

"Wh-what? You don't offer a basic benefits package?"

"Your previous employer provided that?" Dante asked slowly.

"Duh! It's basic labor rights!"

Dantes look became complicated. He looked at me like I was a tragic case. "Go home. Leave the group."

"Wait, wait!"

I wasn't about to let a 0-000k payday walk away just because the HR department sucks. I lowered my standards.

"Okay, forget the 401k! Just health insurance!"

He started to turn away.

"Minimum wage! I'll take minimum wage for the probationary period!"

Dante slammed a hand over my shoulder, pinning me in place.

His dark eyes locked on the street below. Sharp. Dangerous.

"Shut up."

I instinctively followed his gaze downward.

Well, well.

Our target, Daltonthe influencerhad arrived.

Chapter 5

"Your demands? I might consider them."

Dante turned to me. His gaze was heavy with implication. "But your skills better justify the cost."

Challenge accepted.

"Don't worry," I said, puffing out my chest. "Sage doesn't just talk the talk."

I reached for my backpack to grab the camera.

I tugged the zipper. Stuck.

I tugged harder. Still stuck.

That loose thread from earlier had evolved into a Gordian knot. It wasn't budging.

I looked up. Dantes face was a mask of icy judgment.

I let out an awkward laugh. "So I'm gonna run downstairs and borrow some scissors"

Dante took a deep breath. It sounded like the last shred of his patience snapping. "What is the difference between this and going to war without a gun?"

He stepped closer, his shadow looming over me. "How can I trust you with a mission like this? Forget it. Go home. Quit the group."

"Wait, let me explain"

My phone vibrated in my pocket. Saved by the bell. Or maybe doomed by it.

It was a call from home.

I answered. Listened for two seconds. My face fell.

"Boss"

I hung up, putting on my best tragic expression. "My grandma, Pearl. She's in the hospital. Again. I have to go."

I grabbed his arm, desperate. "Please don't kick me out! Once I handle this, I swear I'll take a job and prove myself!"

Dante paused. "Again? Is her health that bad?"

Well

Pearl has "Old Lady Syndrome." She thinks she's dying every Tuesday. If she sneezes, she demands an ambulance. She treats the ER like a social club and loves getting IV fluids for "dehydration."

But Dante didn't need to know that.

I forced my eyes to redden. I sniffled. "It's her eighth time being admitted this year. I just I don't know"

"Forget it."

Dante pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted. "Go to the hospital. I'll cover this order for you."

Yes! Hot and kind. The total package.

Terrified he might change his mind, I thanked him profusely and bolted.

I didn't truly relax until I was in the back of a taxi, speeding away from the building.

I leaned against the window, watching the city blur by.

Suddenly, I sat up.

I saw a familiar figure on the sidewalk.

Dante?

Why was he downstairs?

Did he come down to get a close-up shot of Dalton? Thats dedication.

I was just about to admire his work ethic when a commotion erupted outside.

People were screaming. Running.

I rolled down the window, trying to catch the words floating on the wind.

"dead"

"someone died!"

Chapter 6

The taxi sped away before I could catch the details.

Whatever. Id check local Twitter for the tea later.

I pushed it out of my mind and focused on getting to the hospital.

Once I got Pearl settled in her roomshe was already complaining about the thread count of the hospital sheetsI finally checked my phone.

Unread messages from Dante.

And a notification from my bank.

Transfer Received: 0-000,000.00.

I stared at the screen. My brain short-circuited.

Sage: [Boss?]

Dante: [Mission complete. Your bonus.]

I felt my face heat up. I couldn't take this.

Sage: [But I didn't lift a finger!]

Dante: [Whoever accepted the mission gets the bounty.]

Dante: [Consider it medical expenses for your family.]

I felt a wave of shame crash over me, followed immediately by awe.

The man is a saint. A dangerously hot, rich saint. And here I was, scamming him with my grandmas hypochondria. I was officially going to hell.

Just as I was debating whether to confess, another message popped up. Dante: [Did you see the local news?]

I paused. I switched apps and scrolled through the city headlines.

My stomach dropped.

Someone actually died.

Right near that building where we were this morning.

I quickly switched back to the chat. Sage: [Saw it. Please stay safe out there, Boss!]

A homicide in broad daylight? Thats terrifying.

He didn't reply for a few seconds.

Dante: [You too.]

Dante: [Stay inside unless necessary.]

Dante: [And watch what you wear.]

Wow. He really hated that orange puffer jacket.

But hey, the man just handed me a hundred grand for doing absolutely nothing. He was the client, the boss, and the bankroll. If he wanted me to dress like a goth ninja, I would dress like a goth ninja.

Sage: [Ill follow your lead. Buying the matching look now.]

I opened a shopping app, found a long black trench coat that looked exactly like his, and hit Buy Now.

Sage: [Ordered. Wearing it as soon as it arrives.]

He didn't reply. Probably satisfied that I wasn't going to look like a traffic cone anymore.

With nothing else to do, I went back to scrolling the news feed.

I found the official police statement.

I scanned it casually, barely paying attention. Then my eyes landed on the victim's name and age.

I froze.

The guy who died this morning

It was the target.

It was Dalton.

Chapter 7

An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach. I started digging into the victim's doxing threads online.

It was him. It was actually the influencer, Dalton.

What are the odds?

I frowned and kept scrolling. An insider on a forum claimed it was a hit ordered by a rival brand. "One strike, fatal blow. Ruthless."

The post included a leaked photo. No body, but the pool of blood on the pavement was enough to make my stomach turn.

I gagged and swiped the app closed immediately.

Just then, a notification popped up from the group chat. Someone tagged me.

I clicked it, happy for the distraction.

Wade: [We all saw the news. The rookie is terrifying. That technique is solid. @Sage]

The news?

The murder news?

Oh, right. Since Dalton is dead, Dante couldn't snap a portrait of a living subject. He probably submitted some crime scene photos to the client as proof.

Journalistic photography. Edgy.

I hurried to type a humble reply.

Sage: [No, no. It was all Boss Dante saving the day.]

Sage: [I didn't really do anything.]

But the group wouldn't let me be modest.

User B: [Out with the old, in with the new. It's the law of the jungle.]

User C: [Looks like we have some fierce competition now. Haha.]

The more they praised me, the guiltier I felt.

I didn't take those photos! I didn't do the work!

I couldn't live with being a fraud. I messaged Dante privately.

Sage: [Boss, I'm willing to take the next task for free. Just to say thank you for helping me out this time.]

Dante: [No rush on tasks. Learn the industry rules first. Ask if you don't understand.]

Is this private tutoring?

My photography skills are about to skyrocket.

Excited, I selected a few of my recent casual shots and sent them over for critique.

Sage: [Boss, give me some feedback?]

Dante: [?]

Dante: [Nice shot.]

I pouted at the screen. Sage: [Be serious!]

Dante: []

Dante: [Nice shot!]

Fine. He's probably never mentored anyone before. His vocabulary is limited to "good" and "bad."

I comforted myself. I just need to be more proactive. I'll send him more reference photos.

So, I started spamming him.

A golden retriever walking in the park? Sent.

Sunrise over the city skyline? Sent.

A fully nude male model from Twitter

Oh god. Wrong image. Unsend! Unsend!

Too late.

Dante didn't seem annoyed. He replied to them in order.

Dante: [Cute.]

Dante: [Nice view.]

Dante: [?]

Dante: [Today's target?]

Dante: [Who assigned this mission??]

He actually saw it.

I wanted to die. I scrambled for an excuse. Sage: [Not a mission! Just a little study on human anatomy]

Dante went silent for a long moment. Dante: [I thought you were training with me?]

My fingers moved faster than my brain. Sage: [So, are you going naked?]

Dante: ?

Chapter 8

Holy shit. I am deceased.

Did I really just send that?

That wasn't just a slip of the tongue. That was a thirsty, colossal Freudian slip.

I frantically tried to unsend it. Too late. The message was read.

I started typing a frantic defense. Sage: [Actually, what I meant was]

My phone vibrated.

He replied.

With a photo.

I froze. My thumb hovered over the screen. I tapped it open.

Oh. My. God.

The lighting was dim, moodydefinitely a locker room.

He was wearing a t-shirt, but "wearing" was a generous term. The fabric was white and completely translucent, plastered to his skin by hard-earned sweat. It clung to him like a second skin.

Every ridge of muscle was high-definition. A single bead of sweat traced a slow line down the valley of his chest, over the hard bricks of his abs, and disappeared into the dark, dangerous waistband of his low-slung shorts.

I didn't think. I didn't breathe.

I long-pressed. Save to Camera Roll.

Once the asset was secured, I felt a surge of adrenaline-fueled bravery. I decided to push my luck.

Sage: [Incredible! But doesn't "naked" usually imply, you know, no clothes?]

Dante: [Through a sniper scope, its all the same.]

It is absolutely not the same.

I opened the photo again. Zoomed in.

My face felt hot.

Why is a man in a wet t-shirt infinitely sexier than a shirtless one? Its the mystery. The friction.

Just as I was admiring the view, the group chat exploded.

User B: [Bros, I suspect the Boss is glitching.]

User B: [He was spotting me on the shoulder press, then suddenly dropped the weights and sprinted to the locker room to take a selfie. Sus behavior.]

The chat immediately rallied.

User C: [Holy shit, bro, I thought so too!]

User C: [Last week he sent me a picture of a Golden Retriever and asked me to identify the breed.]

User A: [Is he branching into K-9 units? Zootopia arc?]

User D: [Yesterday he asked me for coordinates on the best sunrise view in the city. High definition only.]

User B: [Is he planning to snipe the sun? Is he declaring war on it?]

What is happening?

I was just about to type out an explanationthat those were just my homework assignmentswhen someone with a brain finally entered the chat.

Wade: [Are your heads screwed on backwards? Do you think about anything other than kill counts?]

Wade: [Its obvious.]

Wade: [The Boss is in love.]

Me: ?

Wade broke it down with cold, analytical precision.

Wade: [The selfie? Thats peacocking. Hes showing off the goods.]

Wade: [Asking about the dog? Hes trying to relate to her interests.]

Wade: [The sunrise? Hes planning a date. Romance is imminent.]

Wade: [Bros, say no more. Im pledging two jagged combat knives to the wedding registry!]

User C: [Damn! Put me down for a shotgun!]

User A: [Ill gift a crate of tear gas! Essential for the honeymoon!]

Chapter 9

Wait, friends. Is this a photography circle or a Call of Duty lobby?

I watched the chat descend into madness.

Next second, Wade tagged me. Wade: [What is Sage contributing to the registry?]

I didn't want to try too hard to fit into their weird world. I typed a quick, standard reply.

Sage: [I'll pitch in a crate of condoms.]

I hit send.

My DoorDash arrived. I ran downstairs to grab my food.

When I came back, my phone was buzzing like a Hitachi wand.

What now?

I opened the chat. It was a wall of skull emojis and "Sheeeesh."

What?

Dante DM'd me privately. Dante: [Don't encourage them.]

I pouted at the screen. Sage: [Oh. Okay.]

He paused for a few seconds. Dante: [Is that your standard wedding gift?]

Standard?

I scrolled up. I meant to type "A grand." Just cash. What was the

Holy shit.

There it was. In 4K resolution.

Sage: [I'll pitch in a crate of condoms.]

My vision went black.

I blamed my smutty fanfic habits. I spend way too much time shipping fictional couples. My predictive text had learned all the wrong words.

Sage: [NO BOSS!]

Sage: [Typo! Massive typo! I meant CHOCOLATES!]

Dante sent a skeptical emoji. Dante: ["Chocolates" and "Condoms" are two very different vibes, Sage.]

I groaned.

My own keyboard was sabotaging me.

Thankfully, he didn't dwell on my perversion. He changed the subject abruptly.

Dante: [How is your studying going?]

Dante: [New order came in. Want to try your hand?]

I agreed immediately, desperate to change the topic.

I opened the target file.

My jaw dropped.

The location was this hospital.

The VIP ward. One floor directly above Pearl's room.

Then I saw the target's name.

"Fuck!"

I cursed out loud, startling a nurse.

Of course.

It was my ex-boyfriend.

It was Dalton.

Chapter 10

I stared at the photo on my screen. I gripped the phone so hard the plastic case creaked.

Dalton.

That piece of trash didn't deserve to exist in my viewfinder.

Dante: [Bounty: $200k.]

Dante: [Deducting the 0-000k from the first freebie, the net payout for this mission is 0-000k.]

My thumb hovered over the decline button. I froze.

Whatever.

Even a scumbag shouldn't stop me from securing the bag. Money doesn't have morals.

I gritted my teeth and typed: [Deal.]

That afternoon, I went upstairs to do some recon.

Dalton was a micro-influencer. He had a million followers on TikTokmostly bots he bought during the pandemic. Naturally, he was staying in a VIP suite.

"Excuse me, are you looking for Mr. Song in the VIP ward?"

A nurse, Courtney, caught me lurking in the hallway.

I felt a flash of awkwardness. "Yeah. Is he not in his room?"

"Mr. Song is in imaging for a scan," Courtney said kindly. "He should be back shortly."

I decided to fish for intel. "What exactly does he have? He wouldn't tell us. We went to school together, we're worried sick."

Courtney smiled professionally. "I can't disclose patient privacy. But rest assured, it's not life-threatening."

I clicked my tongue, disappointed. "So there's absolutely no chance of critical condition?"

Courtney blinked. "Huh?"

I realized how that sounded. I flashed a bright, fake smile. "No, no! I meant is there any risk that he might actually recover? I'm just so worried about him. Haha."

"Wow. Hearing that coming from you, Sage? I'm actually touched."

A voice dripped from behind me. Smug. Condescending. Like nails on a chalkboard.

I turned around.

Dalton.

His face was just as punchable as I remembered.

The thought that I had to photograph this face made me want to vomit.

"Don't get touched too early," I said, my smile tight and devoid of humor.

I confirmed he was staying in this room. Intel secured. I turned on my heel to leave.

"Stop!"

Dalton grabbed my arm. He looked genuinely baffled. "You worked this hard to find me, and now you're just walking away?"

He scoffed. "Sage, is this your attitude when begging for a second chance?"

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. "Begging? You hearing voices?"

"What else would it be?"

Dalton crossed his arms, puffing out his chest. Arrogance radiated off him in waves.

"You went to all this effort to find my ward. You're harassing the nurses about my health. If you aren't desperate to get back together, then why are you here?"

I laughed. I actually laughed out loud.

I was silenced by his sheer, unadulterated narcissism. I was just about to verbally eviscerate him when a movement in the hallway caught my eye.

A tall, dark figure.

Dante.

In a split second, an evil idea bloomed in my brain.

My smile changed. It became sweet. Adoring. Sickening.

I looked past Dalton's shoulder and waved.

"Honey! What took you so long