I filed it away.
When Mila's group started leaving, I tracked them. Stayed back far enough that the shadows swallowed me. They took the metro, and I followed two cars down, blending into the late-night crowd. Headphones in, hood up, just another tired asshole heading home.
Mila got off with a dark-haired woman—one of the residency friends, probably. They walked together for a while, talking, then split at a corner.
Then Julien went toward Mila's neighborhood.
My pulse kicked.
I followed him.
He knew where she lived.
That was the first problem.
I'd done my research on Mila—enough to know her building, her street, the café she favored. But I'd never actually been to her apartment. Hadn't let myself cross that line.
Julien walked straight there like he'd done it before.
He followed someone into the building—an older woman with grocery bags who held the door without thinking twice. Classic security failure. I made a mental note to mention it, if I ever got the balls to actually talk to Mila about this.
If.
Right.
Julien was inside for maybe three minutes. Then he came back out, leaned against the building, and lit a cigarette.
Waiting.
I watched from the corner, body angled so I could see him without being obvious. He smoked slow, calm, like he had all the time in the world.
Then he pulled out his phone.
His posture changed. He straightened. His expression sharpened, focused on whatever was on the screen. Then he smiled—not pleasant, predatory—and started walking.
Fast. Purposeful.
Like he'd just picked up a new scent.
I stayed on him.
Mila showed up five minutes later.
I saw her from a block away, walking quickly, shoulders tight, glancing behind her once, then twice. She looked spooked.
My hands curled into fists.
I wanted to go to her. Wanted to ask if she'd planned to meet Julien. If she was okay.
But then I saw her face in the window of her apartment—pale, drawn, scared.
No. She hadn't been expecting him.
I turned and took off the way Julien had gone.
The bastard was fast, and the streets in this part of Paris twisted like a maze designed by someone with a sick sense of humor. I lost him twice, had to double back, nearly called Ellsworth to see if he could pull CCTV access.
Then, I got lucky.
