The train to Paris was packed, the low hum of conversation weaving through the carriage. Cassie sat by the window, watching the early dawn paint the French countryside in hues of pale gold and shadow. The journey felt like the calm before a storm, a momentary pause in the whirlwind that had become their lives. Anya sat across from her, eyes fixed on the corridor as if daring anyone to look their way for too long. Emil had chosen to sit a few rows down, far enough to avoid suspicion but close enough to react at the first sign of trouble.
They had only hours until the agency's planned assassination. The implications were staggering: if the target was taken out, it would cement the agency's power, shifting public attention away from their exposed files and back into the fear that kept the world turning in their favor.
Cassie's thoughts strayed to Adam. He would have relished this—the rush of a high-stakes mission, the clarity of knowing exactly where you stood when the stakes were life and death. She could almost hear his voice, equal parts sarcasm and steel, urging her forward.
The train jerked slightly as it slowed into Gare du Nord, the towering iron arches of the station casting long, intricate shadows across the platforms. Anya and Emil exchanged glances, their silent agreement clear. They moved through the crowded terminal, blending seamlessly into the chaos of early morning commuters.
"We need to secure a location near the Place du Trocadéro," Emil said as they stepped into the cold Parisian air. "The intel suggests the target will be there for a scheduled speech on governmental transparency."
Cassie's mind raced as she processed the plan. The Place du Trocadéro was a tourist hub, expansive and exposed. It would be crawling with security, not to mention the usual throngs of tourists. It was the perfect setting for an assassination meant to make a statement.
"We need eyes on the rooftops and in the crowd," Anya said. "If we can identify their operatives, we might be able to intercept before it's too late."
The trio split up, each heading to different vantage points around the open square. Cassie moved quickly through the early-morning crowd, finding her way to a café with a clear view of the podium that had been set up in front of the Palais de Chaillot. The banners fluttered in the wind, boasting slogans of reform and progress that felt almost ironic under the circumstances.
A low buzz came through her earpiece. "Cassie, I'm in position," Anya's voice said, steady and controlled.
"Me too," Emil added, his tone clipped.
Cassie surveyed the scene, noting every security detail and scanning for any faces that seemed out of place. A group of suited men lingered at the edge of the square, and for a moment, Cassie's breath caught. One of them turned, his eyes scanning the crowd with practiced precision. She recognized him immediately—Marko, one of the agency's deadliest assets, known for orchestrating operations that ended in "accidents" and "unexplained disappearances."
"Marko is here," Cassie said, her voice barely a whisper.
"Damn it," Anya hissed. "He's the last person we needed to see."
"Stay focused," Emil cut in. "If Marko is leading this, they won't make a move until everything is perfect."
Cassie's eyes darted around the square, her pulse quickening. The crowd was growing, an electric anticipation buzzing in the air as the time for the speech approached. Marko's men were stationed in strategic points, their stances casual but eyes keen.
Then, she saw him—a man in his late fifties, with silver hair and a commanding presence, stepping onto the stage with an air of calm. His name was Jacques Leclerc, a reformist politician whose push for transparency had made powerful enemies. The crowd erupted into applause, a testament to his influence.
The hairs on Cassie's neck stood up. A movement on a nearby rooftop caught her eye—an angular shadow shifting slightly. She focused, squinting to make out the figure kneeling near the edge, the long silhouette unmistakably a sniper's rifle.
"Sniper on the northeast building," Cassie whispered urgently. "Second floor, far right corner."
"Copy that," Anya said, already on the move. Cassie saw her figure dart through the crowd, moving with precision. Emil followed suit, positioning himself closer to the building's entrance to cut off any ground support.
Leclerc was speaking now, his words strong and unwavering. "We stand here today to remind those who seek to control through fear that transparency is the foundation of democracy. No government, no agency, no hidden hand should dictate the lives of the many without accountability."
The rifle's barrel glinted in the morning light, shifting slightly as the sniper aligned his shot. Cassie's breath quickened. She had seconds to act.
"Anya, I need confirmation," she said, eyes locked on the scene.
"I see him," Anya replied, her voice strained. "Engaging now."
The sound of a silenced shot cracked through the square, masked by the sudden cheer of the crowd. The sniper's body jerked and fell back, out of sight. Panic rippled through Marko's men as they realized their plan had been compromised. Cassie watched as Emil intercepted one operative attempting to signal, dispatching him with brutal efficiency.
But Marko remained calm, his eyes meeting Cassie's across the sea of people. His lips curled into a faint smile before he disappeared into the crowd, slipping away like smoke.
Cassie's heart pounded as Leclerc finished his speech, oblivious to how close he had come to death. The crowd's applause swelled, but all Cassie could think about was Marko's expression—a promise that this was far from over.
"We bought ourselves some time," Anya said, appearing at Cassie's side, her breathing heavy. "But they'll come back stronger."
Cassie nodded, eyes still scanning the crowd for any sign of Marko. "Then we need to be ready. This was just the beginning."
As the city hummed around them, Cassie felt the familiar churn of resolve harden in her chest. The battle for control, for truth, was far from over, and Paris had just become their new front line.