The Montmartre Exchange

Jessica’s lungs burned as she sprinted through the darkened alleyways of Paris, her boots pounding against the damp pavement. The scent of rain and exhaust filled the air as neon signs flickered above them, reflecting in the puddles at their feet. Leanna was a step ahead, leading the way, her breath ragged but steady. Olivia struggled behind, gripping her laptop tight against her chest, her fingers clenched around its edges like a lifeline.

The gunfire had stopped, but Jessica knew better than to think they were safe. Their attackers weren’t amateurs; they were professionals, closing in methodically. The moment they slowed down, they were dead.

“Where the hell are we going?” Olivia hissed, her voice barely above a whisper as she dodged an overturned trash bin.

Leanna skidded around a corner, yanking Jessica with her before pressing her back against a brick wall. “Montmartre,” she panted, scanning the street ahead. “Jean-Luc had a backup plan.”

Jessica narrowed her eyes. “And you didn’t think to tell us this before?”

“No time,” Leanna shot back. “We need to move. Now.”

Jessica glanced behind them. The narrow passage was dark, but she could hear movement—a faint shuffle, a distant murmur. Their pursuers were closing in.

A motorbike roared past, the rider oblivious to the three fugitives pressed into the shadows. Jessica seized the moment, grabbing Olivia’s wrist and pulling her into motion. “Go!”

They darted across the street, narrowly missing the headlights of a taxi that screeched to a halt, the driver shouting curses in French. Jessica didn’t stop. Ahead, Montmartre’s sloping streets loomed like a labyrinth, winding and treacherous. If they could get far enough ahead, they might be able to lose their tail.

Leanna pulled out her phone, thumb flying across the screen. “Jean-Luc sent a new location. Safe house.”

Jessica grit her teeth. “We’re trusting him? After that mess?”

“He didn’t sell us out,” Olivia said, breathless. “Someone else did.”

Jessica didn’t have time to argue. A black SUV turned the corner behind them, tires screeching against the wet asphalt. The back window rolled down, and a glint of steel caught the streetlight.

“Move!” Jessica shouted, shoving Olivia forward as the first shot rang out.

_________

The SUV barreled after them, headlights cutting through the rain-soaked streets. Jessica cursed under her breath as she spotted a market square ahead, its stalls dimly lit, vendors packing up for the night.

“Split up,” she ordered. “Regroup at the church on the hill.”

Leanna veered left, ducking behind an old boulangerie. Olivia bolted toward a narrow alley, disappearing into the shadows. Jessica sprinted straight ahead, weaving between crates of fruit and barrels of wine as shouts of protest erupted behind her. She knocked over a stack of wooden pallets, slowing the vehicle’s advance.

A sudden sharp turn led her down a steep flight of stairs, the sound of her own heartbeat drowning out the approaching footsteps behind her. The alleyway twisted and turned, but she kept running, fueled by sheer instinct.

At last, she reached the base of the hill, darting behind a stone archway as the SUV’s tires screeched to a halt at the top. The vehicle idled for a moment before speeding off in the opposite direction.

Jessica exhaled sharply, taking a moment to collect herself before climbing the steps toward Sacré-Cœur, where Leanna and Olivia were already waiting.

“Think we lost them?” Olivia gasped, hands on her knees.

“For now,” Jessica said grimly. “Let’s not waste it.”

—

They reached the entrance of a nondescript building in the quieter part of Montmartre. Jessica’s heart hammered against her ribs as Leanna punched in a code on the rusted keypad. The door clicked open, and they stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind them.

Silence.

Olivia slid down against the wall, her chest rising and falling in uneven bursts. Jessica peered through the dusty blinds. No movement. Yet.

Leanna locked the door and turned to face them. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

Jessica exhaled, shaking her head. “No. But next time, we pick the trap.”