On Target

I’ll admit, I approached *On Target* with skepticism. The ‘rogue assassin’ trope is well-worn, and I’ve rolled my eyes through too many over-the-top action scenes where physics takes a coffee break. But Greaney disarms that cynicism within the first hour. This isn’t a power fantasy—it’s a *survival* story. Gentry isn’t invincible; he’s *resourceful*, and the difference matters. The opening act, where he’s ambushed in a safe house and left bleeding out, sets the tone: this is a man who’s always three steps ahead, but the world keeps adding steps. The tradecraft details (how to hotwire a car in 20 seconds, the telltale signs of a tail) aren’t just window dressing—they’re the difference between life and death, and Greaney makes you *feel* the stakes. Jay Snyder’s performance is so good it’s almost unfair. His Gentry is a perfect blend of weary cynicism and razor-sharp focus—think a less showy, more grounded version of *Jack Ryan*’s Scott Brick. The supporting cast gets distinct voices (no small feat in a genre where secondary characters often blur), and Snyder’s delivery of dry one-liners (“*I don’t do apologies. They’re a waste of breath.*”) had me rewinding just to savor them. My only critique? The mid-book detour into a secondary character’s backstory drags slightly—it’s well-written, but the momentum stalls when we’re pulled away from Gentry’s immediate mission. And while the finale delivers on spectacle, I wished for a bit more emotional payoff after so much buildup. Still, these are quibbles. The audiobook’s production is pristine, the action is visceral, and the narrative hooks are barbed. If you like your thrillers smart, brutal, and devoid of easy answers, *On Target* doesn’t just hit the mark—it leaves a bullet hole in it.