The Parisian Arrangement

The glow of Paris at night stretched beneath them like a network of veins, the city pulsing with life as their plane descended into Charles de Gaulle Airport. Jessica adjusted her baseball cap, pulling it low over her brow. It had been years since she’d last been here—that felt like borrowed time, or someone else’s memory.

Leanna’s voice cut through the drone of descent. “We land, we meet Jean-Luc, we get out. No distractions.”

Olivia glanced up from her phone. “That’s if Jean-Luc hasn’t already sold us out.”

Jessica said nothing. She had learned long ago that trust was currency easily spent but rarely recovered.

—

Jean-Luc had chosen a dimly lit, classic Parisian corner bar off Place de la Contrescarpe—a relic from another time, with weathered wooden tables and a zinc-topped counter that gleamed under weak yellow lighting. The bar was quiet, save for the occasional clink of glassware and the low murmur of French conversations. The air smelled of aged whiskey, espresso, and the faint remnants of Gauloises cigarettes.

Jessica’s gut twisted as they entered. Something about the stillness felt... rehearsed. Every gaze avoided them a second too quickly. Everybody too still.

Jean-Luc sat near the window, bathed in the soft neon glow of the streetlight outside. He nursed a short glass of amber liquid, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. His sharp eyes swept over the entrance before landing on Olivia. He smiled thinly. "You bring trouble, ma chère."

Olivia slid into the booth opposite. Jessica and Leanna flanked her, neither removing their jackets nor settling fully into their seats.

“We need intel,” Olivia said. “Now.”

Jean-Luc exhaled smoke like punctuation. “Still impatient. I admire that.”

Jessica’s voice was low, but it was obvious her patience was running thin. "What do you know about the Vanguard facility?"

He tapped ash into an empty espresso cup, then gave a long pause—too long. “I know you shouldn’t be in Paris.”

Jessica tensed. "That’s not an answer."

“No,” he said, eyes flat. “It’s a warning.”

—

Jessica saw it first. A man at the bar, gripping his glass too tightly. A woman in the corner, checking her phone—twice, fast. A sliver of movement reflected in the mirror behind the counter, not quite in sync with the room.

“Move,” Jessica said.

The first gunshot shattered the illusion of calm. Glass erupted. Screams broke like surf. Jessica yanked Olivia down as Leanna flipped their table for cover. Jean-Luc was already gone—slipped through the back like a man who always planned his exits

"I knew we couldn’t trust him!" Olivia shouted, clutching her laptop like a lifeline. as Jessica peeked over their makeshift barricade.

Leanna drew a compact pistol. “We need a way out!”

Jessica risked a glance—front blocked. But the alley…“There!” She pointed to a narrow gap beside the bar. A bullet tore through the air where her head had been.

Olivia swore as she clutched her shoulder—not from a bullet wound, but from slamming into the pavement as Jessica shoved her toward the exit. “If they wreck my drive,” she hissed, half-limping, “I swear I’ll haunt Vanguard myself.” They bolted through the alley, boots splashing through puddles, adrenaline roaring in their veins.

They’d come to Paris for answers.Instead, they found a trap.Now, they had to survive it.