The cold wind whipped through the narrow streets as the team made their way to the location Dufort had whispered before he slipped into unconsciousness. The coordinates led them to an estate on the outskirts of Paris, an old chateau surrounded by sprawling gardens and dense woods. It had been Marko's hideaway for years—a fortress masked by grandeur and history.
Cassie stood at the edge of the garden, eyes fixed on the building ahead. The moon cast long, eerie shadows over the stone façade, highlighting every crack and vine. It looked abandoned, but she knew better. Marko would not leave his most precious asset unguarded.
"Varga, you take the west side. Emil, the back entrance," Cassie instructed, her voice low and firm. "Anya, you're with me."
Emil nodded, his face set with determination. "See you inside."
Cassie watched as Emil and Varga disappeared into the darkness, their footsteps silent against the wet grass. She turned to Anya, who was checking her gear with a practiced efficiency.
"Are you ready for this?" Cassie asked, searching Anya's eyes for any sign of doubt.
Anya's mouth tightened into a thin line. "I don't have a choice, do I? We end this, tonight."
Cassie gave a short nod and led the way, moving quickly and quietly toward the chateau's main entrance. The heavy wooden doors were sealed, but not impenetrable. Anya knelt, pulling a small device from her bag. Within moments, there was a soft click, and the lock gave way.
They slipped inside, the air immediately thick with the scent of dust and aged wood. The grand hall was dark, save for a faint glow from an oil lamp on a distant table. Cassie's hand hovered over her holster as they moved deeper into the chateau, ears straining for any sound.
A creak echoed from above—a floorboard protesting under pressure. Cassie's pulse quickened. She signaled to Anya, pointing upward. Whoever was here was waiting, watching.
A shadow moved across the balcony railing, and in an instant, a figure leaped down, landing with feline grace. The man stood tall, dressed in a dark suit that seemed to blend into the room's gloom. His eyes were ice blue, as cold and sharp as the blade he now held.
"Cassie Bennett," the man drawled, tilting his head slightly. "I expected Marko's prized agent to show her face sooner or later."
Cassie's breath caught for a moment. She knew this man. "Luka," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady. He was known in the agency as The Guardian, Marko's most trusted enforcer.
Luka smirked, the corners of his mouth pulling up into an almost mocking grin. "I'm flattered you remember. But flattery won't get you the archive."
Anya stepped forward, gun raised. "We're not here to bargain, Luka. Step aside."
Luka's expression didn't change, but his eyes shifted, calculating. He lunged at Anya, the blade flashing in the dim light. Cassie moved on instinct, shoving Anya to the side and parrying Luka's strike with her own knife. Metal clashed against metal, the sound ringing through the hall like a bell.
The fight was brutal and fast, a dance of skill and survival. Luka was good—too good. Cassie's arms ached as she deflected blow after blow, each strike coming closer than the last. Anya circled, looking for an opening, but Luka's movements were precise, covering every angle.
Finally, Cassie spotted a momentary lapse, a half-second when Luka's stance was too wide. She kicked out, catching his knee. He faltered, and Anya didn't miss the chance. A single shot rang out, and Luka dropped, clutching his side as blood seeped through his fingers.
Cassie stepped over him, chest heaving. "Where's the archive, Luka?"
His smile returned, weaker now, but still defiant. "You think it's that easy?" He laughed, a ragged, wet sound. "You'll never make it out with the information. Marko is always... one step ahead."
His head slumped forward, eyes closing as his breath rattled and stilled.
Cassie felt a chill run down her spine. Marko's plans were always layered, traps set within traps. But they couldn't turn back now. She signaled Anya to move, and together they pushed through to the inner sanctum, where the archive waited.
The room was small, more like a vault than an office. Shelves lined the walls, filled with files, old ciphers, and technology that looked both outdated and futuristic. In the center, an imposing steel desk held a single computer.
Anya moved to the computer, fingers flying across the keyboard. "It's encrypted. This will take time."
Cassie paced, ears tuned to every creak and groan of the chateau. The quiet felt too deep, like the eye of a storm. A noise from the hallway sent her heart racing. Footsteps.
"We have company," she whispered, turning to Anya.
"Just a little longer," Anya said, sweat glistening on her brow.
The footsteps grew louder, more distinct. Emil appeared in the doorway, gun in hand. "We need to move. Now. Reinforcements are closing in."
Cassie glanced at Anya, who finally nodded, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. "I've got it. Let's go."
The trio fled down the corridor, the weight of the archive—a potential key to stopping Seraphim—clutched tightly to Cassie's chest. As they emerged into the night, the sound of sirens and shouting soldiers echoed behind them. The chateau's alarms screamed into the cold air, but they didn't look back.
This was just the beginning of Marko's end.