The next day
"Ugh" Lila groaned as she felt her head about to split. Maybe because she just got into a fight yesterday, didn't think to rest and still stayed up all night researching and looking up everything about the shadows syndicate. The legal kind.
Something she could have handed over to Matthieu but didn't.
" 'Sup?" Camille asked.
"My head's about to fall off"
"What did I just hear???. A whole Lila Rousseau is telling me a humble human that her head aches?!!!" She gaped like she couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"Don't be so dramatic" Lila rolled her eyes so hard they could see her brain.
"I didn't know you got tired too. You just look unattainable sometimes."
That's cause I am. Lila thought. But replied "You know me. Always the picture of peace and serenity."
Camille laughed. "And I'm the Queen of England."
Lila didn't respond. She tugged on a pair of gloves, already walking over to the drawer that held the body from this morning. Camille went quiet—smart girl. The energy shifted the way it always did when Lila started working. Focused. Sharp. Slightly terrifying.
She pulled the tray out with practiced ease. Male. Late 30s. Found dumped near the canal with an entry wound to the base of the skull and bruises around his wrists like shackles. Lila's eyes flicked over the autopsy file. Something about this one felt— familiar again.
No.
She wasn't going there again. Not anymore. She'd had enough. She'd already poked the hornet's nest yesterday, and it bit her right back.
Still, her fingers hovered near the incision point. Ready to begin.
That was when the door slammed open.
---
Slam!!!.
Mattheiu barges in looking like an enraged bull.
"Tu te fous de moi ?!"
Are you fucking kidding me?
Lila didn't even flinch. "Bonjour, Matthieu," she said, not looking up from the corpse.
"Tu n'étais pas censée toucher à cette affaire. Tu le savais."
You weren't supposed to touch those cases. You knew that.
She shrugged. "That's shocking cause i'm a forensic pathologist. I touch dead people."
Matthieu marched over, voice low and dangerous. "Ce n'est pas un jeu, Lila."
This isn't a game, Lila.
She finally looked up at him. There was a faint line of dried blood near his temple, barely visible unless you knew him like she did.
"You saw it yesterday." she said flatly. "You saw the mess I left behind. I handled it well enough"
"Et s'ils avaient eu une balle entre les dents pour toi, hein ? Tu penses que ton scalpel t'aurait sauvée ?"
And if they had a bullet waiting for you, huh? You think your scalpel would have saved you?
She stepped around the autopsy table, gloves still on. "I told you I was going to work."
"Tu m'as dit ça après que j'aie vu le sang sur le trottoir, pas avant."
You told me that after I met your blood on the pavement not before
He exhaled, frustration carved deep into the creases of his face.
"Pourquoi t'as fouillé dans le dossier du canal ? Tu savais que c'était dangereux."
Why did you look into the canal case? You knew it was dangerous.
"I didn't do it to make a statement," she snapped. "I did it because something didn't add up. And now I know I'm right."
"Tu crois que c'est une victoire ?
You think that's a win?.
He took a step closer. "Tu joues avec des ombres, Lila. Tu n'es pas invincible.T'aurais pas dû te mêler de l'affaire
You're playing with shadows, Lila. You're not invincible. You shouldn't have delved into the case.
Lila's jaw clenched. Her voice dropped an octave. "And you're not my father."
Silence.
That line hit harder than the alley ambush ever did.
Matthieu didn't speak for a moment.
"J'ai jamais dit que je l'étais, j'agis juste par amour pour toi. Je veux te garder en sécurité."
" I never said I was, I'm just acting out of love that I have for you. I wanna keep you safe."
Then, without another word, he turned and walked out the way he came—his boots echoing like gunshots against linoleum.
Lila sighed heavily, realizing she may have been too harsh on him when he was just looking out for her.
---
The city had that late-night smell of rain on concrete, metallic and clean, with the faintest undertone of oil. Lila walked alone, hands in the deep pockets of her coat, the streets around her empty enough that her own footsteps became the loudest sound.
She'd told Matthieu off earlier. He'd given her a long look—the kind that said you'll regret this— after what she said but she waved it off. It wasn't pride, exactly. She just didn't want anyone hovering over her.
She regretted what she said a bit though.
Half a block from her apartment, the air changed. It wasn't colder, but it felt heavier, as though the night had exhaled and was holding itself still.
Her instincts screamed Murder.
She slowed her pace, head tilting just enough to catch the faint scuff of shoes against pavement.
"Montrez-vous"
Show yourselves
Three shapes emerged from between parked cars ahead of her. Tall, solid, shoulders squared under hooded jackets. Another two appeared behind, shadows breaking from the mouth of the alley.
Her stomach tightened. Five?.
Again!
Do all idiots have an affinity with the number five?. Then it was yesterday, now today. Let me catch a break, will you?
The tallest of the group stepped forward. "Lady Rousseau?" His voice was smooth, mock-polite. "We've been looking for you."
She tilted her head.
"Félicitations. Vous m'avez trouvée. "
Congratulations. You found me.
One of them chuckled low. The sound was ugly. Disgusting even.
Hell, even Jace sounds better than that.
"You've been digging into things you shouldn't. That ends tonight."
Her hand brushed the folding knife in her pocket, but she kept her shoulders loose.
" Personne me dit ce que j'ai à faire, et mon agenda ne vous concerne pas."
No one tells me what to do and my business is none of yours.
"Come quietly, and maybe you walk away."
She smiled faintly, but it didn't touch her eyes.
"Ce n'est pas ainsi que je fonctionne. "
" That's not how I operate"
The man in front pulled a short steel pipe from his sleeve. Another unhooked a chain from around his waist.
They began to close the circle.
She moved first.
The knife snapped open with a clean click. She feinted left toward the man with the chain, then spun right, slashing low at the leader's thigh. The cut was shallow but enough to make him stagger. She followed with a sharp elbow to his side before pivoting toward the next nearest attacker.
A fist came for her face—she ducked and drove her knee into the man's stomach, hearing the whoof of air leaving him.
Two down for the moment. Three left.
They tightened formation, moving in sync.
One swung the chain in a wide arc. She stepped back, feeling the air whiff pass her as it missed her by inches, then surged forward to grab it mid-swing. She yanked hard, pulling him off balance, and smashed the heel of her boot into his shin.
A blow caught her from the side—sharp, hard. Pain bloomed along her ribs. She hissed through her teeth, turning to see the man with the pipe raising it again.
"Tu veux jouer? " she growled.
"You want to play?"
She parried the next swing with her forearm, pain shooting up to her shoulder, and retaliated with a slash to his arm. Not deep, but deep enough to make him grimace and scream loudly.
Movement came from behind her—too late. A solid punch landed against her jaw, sending her stumbling against a car. Stars burst across her vision. She dropped low instinctively as another swing passed where her head had been.
Her ears rang, but she forced herself upright, switching the knife to her left hand.
"Vous allez devoir faire mieux que cela"
You'll have to do better than that.
The leader recovered and barked something to the others. They rushed her together.
She ducked the first, blocked the second, then jabbed her knife upward into the third man's forearm. The attack broke their rhythm, and she bolted for the only gap left.
Her boots pounded the pavement.
"Stop her!"
A shot rang out—sharp, deafening and dangerously close to her.
Asphalt chipped near her feet. Another bullet grazed her shoulder, a searing stripe of pain.
She didn't look back.
Vaulting over the hood of a parked sedan, she cut across the street. The leader's voice roared behind her.
She could hear them gaining.
Her breathing turned harsh, shallow. Pain from her ribs made every stride feel like her chest might crack.
Another corner, another gunshot—this one clipping her thigh. She gasped, nearly stumbling, the pain was blinding but kept going.
The glow of her building's sign flickered faintly ahead.
One block.
She darted into the narrow strip between two buildings, trying to lose them. Her shoulder brushed against wet brick, the smell of garbage and rain mixing in the air. Footsteps thundered after her, closer, closer—
She turned sharply, planting her back to the wall, knife up.
The first man rounded the corner too fast. She sidestepped, hooking her foot behind his ankle, and shoved him hard. He went down, cursing.
Two more came through. She slashed the first across the jacket sleeve, cutting fabric. The second swung for her head—she ducked, but the motion tore at her wounded thigh and nearly dropped her to her knees.
Gritting her teeth, she shoved off the wall and drove forward, slamming her shoulder into the second man's chest. He stumbled back into the alley's opposite wall.
They hesitated—just enough.
She ran.
The alley spat her out onto her street. She could see the warm glow from her building's front door now.
Gunfire cracked again. A bullet smacked into the wall beside her; another tore through her coat.
She threw herself through the building's door, slamming it shut and twisting the lock in one movement.
For a long second, she just leaned there, chest heaving, the cool wood steady against her back.
Her knife dangled loosely from her hand. Blood—hers—spotted the blade.
Her voice was barely a whisper.
" Pas ce soir… J'suis pas près de crever"
Not tonight.... I ain't dying anytime soon
She pushed off the door and limped toward the stairs, each step a reminder that she'd won today but might not live to see tomorrow.
She needed to call Mattheiu and take him up on his offer for bodyguards, not cause she was weak but cause she didn't want to draw anymore attention to her recently increasing bruises.
It won't take much longer before they start imagining things like she being in an abusive relationship or her co workers being overly curious and that in itself was annoying.
And the fact that she can't just fall anyone at work even if it was a morgue.
___