Matthieu
The night still smelled of smoke and rain when Matthieu stepped out of his car.
The lighter flicked once, twice, before catching, its tiny flame dancing in the reflection of his brown eyes. He took a slow drag, watching the smoke coil into the air like ghosts he couldn't get rid of. He could never get rid of them.
He hadn't told Lila everything. He never did. Not because he thought she was weak but because she didn't deserve all these drama.
She thought the boy's death was an accident, or at least a hit from The Shadows. She was slightly wrong on both counts.
The message wasn't from the enemy, it was from inside. The boy was an undercover for them in the Shadows and he got ratted out by an inside guy in their syndicate.
The syndicate her father left behind was rotting from within and Matthieu could already smell the decay.
He'd spent the week tracking whispers, every bribes, every orders and sudden disappearances. Someone was cleaning house, and the boy's death was a warning meant for him. Not her. Him.
But Lila had taken the guilt and worn it like a shroud, and that was what made his chest ache more than he'd admit.
He stubbed out the cigarette, grinding the ember against the railing until it hissed out.
Across the parking lot, two of his men were waiting, shadows in black coats. "She's still inside?" he asked.
One nodded. "Oui, monsieur. She's safe. Though Jace Durant was seen near her building earlier."
Yes sir
His jaw flexed. What the fuck was he doing with Lila. "And he's still alive?"
"Oui monsieur."
Matthieu exhaled through his nose, a slow drag of restraint. Jace Durant was chaos in a tailored suit, the kind of man who smiled while the world burned. He played with danger like it was a lover.
And Lila as always was drawn to that kind of danger like a moth that didn't care about flames.
He turned away, hands in his pockets. "Keep eyes on him. No contact, we can't alert the enemy now can we?"
"But sir-"
Matthieu shot a look over his shoulder that made the man flinch. "I. Said. Not. Yet."
He wasn't ready to make a move until he understood why The Shadows were suddenly circling Lila again, until he understood Jace's goal for staying close and who had betrayed them from within.
One wrong move could expose her. And he'd already lost too much to risk losing her too. He won't survive it if anything happened to her.
"Take the car back to the mansion. I'll be going with this motorcycle" Matthieu said pointing at one of the motorcycles they rode here. The men nodded and bowed as he strutted towards the bike.
As he walked toward the motorcycle, the memory of her voice followed him, hoarse, angry and trembling.
"One of ours is dead because of me."
He'd wanted to grab her shoulders and shake the truth into her. Tell her she wasn't the one to blame. Tell her that the blood wasn't on her hands, it was on his for failing in his duty to protect her.
But she looked so small when she said it. So fragile in that way only people who pretend to be strong can be.
He kicked the bike to life, the engine growling beneath him.
If she ever found out what truly happened, he knew she wouldn't just hate him for keeping it from her. She'd think he thought she was weak and that'll wreck him.
And he couldn't even say she'd be wrong to.
---
Somewhere in the city, Jace Durant raised a glass of whiskey and smiled.
"Checkmate's coming, Rousseau." he murmured to no one in particular
---
The Next Day
The meeting place was an old jazz bar, its windows blacked out, neon sign flickering like a dying heart. It had been neutral territory once, back when her father still lived. Now it was just another nest of venomous snakes.
Matthieu pushed open the door, the scent of whiskey and old wood hitting him. A saxophone moaned low from the speakers, as if even the music was keeping secrets.
He sat at the corner table, back to the wall. As always. You could never trust anyone here.
A man slid into the seat across from him; a thin, sharp-looking creature with a clean appearance you'd doubt he could kill. One of his informants. Not quite a friend, not quite an enemy. A frenemy.
"You're late."Matthieu said softly, voice sharp.
The man's throat bobbed. "It's difficult to move unnoticed these days. The Shadows have men every-"
"I don't care about your excuses." Matthieu leaned forward. "I need names of the people involved."
The man's eyes darted around the room. "Someone inside's been feeding them information. Orders, routes, schedules. The boy who died, he was loyal, yes. But he saw too much. He… read something he shouldn't have."
Matthieu's fingers drummed once, twice against the glass. "Who's the informant?"
"I don't know. Not yet."
" Putain. I don't pay you to not know" Matthieu snarls
Fuck.
The man visibly shudders as he squares his hunched shoulders " B-but the trail leads back to someone high up. One of yours."
The words landed like a bullet, straight to his chest. One of his. One of the few men he thought he could trust.
The informant lowered his voice. "And Durant isn't acting alone. Someone inside is pulling him closer, using him to get to her. He never followed orders so I don't know if it's for his personal gain he's doing this or because he's just bored."
Matthieu sat back, the weight settling in his chest like lead.
He thought of Lila's face tonight, pale and tired, and the imaginary face of Jace Durant smirking in her apartment.
"You listen to me" he said, voice calm but lethal. "If anything happens to her. I repeat if anything happens to her because you decided to keep somethings to yourself, you won't have to worry about getting caught by The Shadows. I'll find you and end you myself."
The man nodded quickly, sweat breaking on his brow. "Understood."
Matthieu rose, tossing a few notes on the table, more out of habit than courtesy.
Outside, the night wrapped around him like a shroud. He lit another cigarette, the smoke bitter on his tongue.
He was running out of time.
And for the first time in years, he felt the old edge of fear. Not for himself. For her.
---
Back in front of her apartment, a light flickered on in the window.
He could see her silhouette from where he stood across the street, small, head bowed, shoulders hunched.
She thought she was alone.
But she wasn't. She never was.
He wanted to go to her.
He didn't.
Instead, he whispered into the dark, "Petite tigresse… stay alive until I fix this."
Little tigress
And then he melted back into the night, another shadow in a city full of them.
-----