CHAPTER 2
SHADOWS IN PARIS
Lena moved through Paris as if the city were holding its breath with her. Every street seemed to whisper something she couldn't quite hear, every passerby looked like they knew more than they should.
At the small café on Rue de Grenelle, she sat alone at a corner table. Her coffee had gone cold. Her eyes stayed fixed on the envelope lying in front of her - delivered anonymously to her hotel that morning.
The same handwriting as the one in Milan.
The same message.
*You are not safe. Trust no one.*
She finally opened it.
A single photograph slid out.
Her mother... standing beside a man Lena had never seen before. His arm around her. His face angled away, but Lena could sense something disturbing in the body language - as if he were claiming possession.
On the back of the photo was a sentence.
*He knows you are looking.*
A chill moved down her spine.
She got up instantly, tossing a few euros onto the table, and walked toward the Seine. But before she reached the bridge, she noticed a man in a black coat trailing behind her.
He wasn't pretending not to follow her.
He wanted her to see him.
Lena's heartbeat doubled. She turned sharply down a narrow alley.
Footsteps followed.
She broke into a run.
The alley emptied onto a quiet courtyard, where an iron gate blocked her path. She turned back-
The man was there.
Tall. Expressionless. Hands inside his coat pockets.
"You're Lena Marcellus," he said. His voice carried that unnerving calm of someone certain he had the upper hand.
"I don't know you," she replied.
"But someone very important knows you."
He took a step closer.
Before he could reach her, a motorbike roared into the courtyard. The rider wore a helmet, no identifiable markings.
"Get on!" the rider shouted.
Lena didn't think - she ran and leapt onto the bike. The stranger's gloved hand gripped her waist as the bike shot forward, skidding past the man in the coat.
"Who are you?" Lena yelled over the engine.
The rider didn't answer.
But as they sped through the Paris streets, she sensed one thing:
This person was not saving her.
They were kidnapping her.