Marseille, France — Two Days Later
The sea wind curled through Le Panier's twisting alleys, thick with espresso, salt, and something darker.
Audrey leaned under a crumbling archway, heel resting on rain-slicked cobblestones. Her blazer was gone—replaced by a scuffed leather jacket. No longer a polished professional; the soldier had returned. Half her face hid in shadow beneath the eaves. Her silence was resolute.
She knew these streets better than her own heartbeat. Knew the corners that fractured, where shadows held snipers, and where a tail might vanish without a trace.
But today, Marseille didn't feel like home.
It felt like a warning.
"You're tense," Sebastian said softly behind her.
She didn't turn. "I always am when I come home."
"You grew up here?"
She pointed with her chin toward a beige building with fading shutters and laundry strung like prayer flags. "Top floor. My mother used to run a stall in the market below."
He stepped beside her, eyes tracing the skyline.
"You've never mentioned her."
"She died. Cancer. Fast. Brutal."
He said nothing. Some griefs didn't need unpacking. They just needed space.
A cat darted across the alley. Somewhere ahead, a door creaked open. Then—
Three knocks. A pause. Two more.
Audrey's head barely tilted. "That's our contact."
"You're sure?"
"Old code from black ops rotations. This wasn't meant to reach me by accident. Someone's pulling strings."
"Then we see who."
They moved in sync—no wasted steps, no sound louder than breath. Different worlds, same instinct.
Inside, the air reeked of mold and old paint. The stairwell coiled upward like a snake. A woman waited at the second landing—tall, angular, gray-blonde hair pulled back tight.
Civilian clothes. Intelligence posture. Eyes like steel thawed only by tragedy.
Audrey stopped two steps short. "Clara."
The woman nodded. "Audrey Rousseau. Still breathing, I see."
"Barely," Audrey said. "You've aged."
Clara smiled faintly. "You haven't."
Sebastian raised a brow. "Friend of yours?"
"Joint missions. Riyadh. Lagos. Marrakesh," Audrey said. "She pulled me out of Syria. Then disappeared."
"Burned," Clara said. "Truth wasn't convenient. Loyalty wasn't mutual."
"To the government?"
"No." Her voice cut sharper. "To the mission."
Audrey's jaw tightened. "Why now?"
Clara stepped aside, pushed open the apartment door. "Because this time, it's personal."
The table inside was a war map. Photographs. Pins. Names strung together by red thread.
At the center: a grainy black-and-white photo.
Audrey in military fatigues. A red X slashed across her face.
Sebastian stepped closer. "What is this?"
"They've tagged her for a takedown," Clara said. "Not quietly. Publicly. And not just her—anyone tied to her past. Former agents. Civilians. Ghosts."
"Collateral," Audrey said.
Clara shook her head. "Trophies."
She opened a folder. Three more images. Two men, one woman—dead, each in a different country. All linked to a mission Audrey led in Prague six years ago.
"I buried that op," Audrey whispered.
"Someone dug it up. And now they're burning their way backward through the ashes."
Sebastian's voice was low. "So this is about you."
Clara turned to him. "No. It's about both of you. Someone's betting big—collapse your empire, or erase those who once protected it."
Audrey's eyes narrowed. "What's the link?"
Clara slid over another photo. Recent. A black car peeling away from a Zurich airstrip.
The man stepping out wore a sleek grey suit. Same one from Vienna.
Audrey went still. "Lucien Noir."
Sebastian exhaled. "You have eyes on him?"
"No eyes. Just shadows. He's moving fast. Always ahead. And never alone."
"Mercs?"
Clara shook her head. "Worse. Loyalists."
The air shifted. No one spoke.
Then Clara placed a key on the table. "Dockside flat. Off-grid. Temporary safe house."
Audrey picked it up. "Merci."
"Don't thank me." Clara's voice cooled. "Just end it."
—
They left in silence.
Outside, dusk had spread across the skyline, bleeding violet into the sea.
They moved toward the docks. Only the distant cry of gulls and the city's slow exhale filled the quiet.
Then—
"You should go back," Audrey said.
Sebastian stopped. "No."
"This isn't your war."
"It is now."
She faced him, wind tugging her hair. "If they're tracing my past to hurt you—"
"They already are." His eyes met hers. "And I'd rather be beside you than waiting behind a desk, wondering if you've vanished again."
Her breath caught.
He didn't flinch.
"You really think we can outrun this?" she asked.
"No," he said. "But we can run toward it."
She scoffed. "That's either brave or suicidal."
"Both." He paused. "But I'd rather die beside you… than live without knowing."
She froze.
Not at the words. At the truth in them.
Then—
A sharp whistle echoed from the rooftops.
Audrey yanked Sebastian down behind a shipping crate—
Crack.
A bullet slammed into metal.
She drew her sidearm. "Sniper. Southeast roof. Three stories. Wind's at his back."
"I see him," she said. "Cover me."
"You're not—"
But she was already moving.
Low sprint. Zigzag. Silent.
Sebastian darted the opposite way—shouting in French, knocking over crates, turning heads.
Another shot. Missed.
Audrey scaled a rusted fire escape. Metal groaned beneath her boots. She didn't stop.
The shooter turned as she vaulted the rooftop ledge. Masked. Armed. Retreating.
She tackled him mid-step. A brutal knee to the ribs, elbow to the throat. He swung back—fast, trained.
But she was faster.
And furious.
Leg sweep. Pin. Rip the mask.
Her breath hitched.
"Mathis."
His mouth bled. His eyes wide. "Audrey?"
"You're supposed to be dead."
"I was," he rasped. "Then Lucien found me."
"You were one of us."
He laughed bitterly. "Not anymore. Now I'm his message."
He rolled something from his pocket—bit down.
Cyanide.
Foam spread across his lips. Eyes glazed.
Dead.
Sebastian burst onto the rooftop seconds later. "Are you hit?"
She shook her head, staring at the body. "Mathis was on my Prague team. He was loyal."
Sebastian crouched beside her. "They're not just hunting your past."
"They're recruiting it."
Audrey stood, her expression hardening.
"This isn't a threat anymore."
He met her eyes. "No. It's a war."
She nodded. "Then we fight."