The Pont Saint-Louis stretched like a pale ribbon between the Île de la Cité and Île Saint-Louis, its slender arches catching the moonlight in fractured silver. At two in the morning, the air was cool and the city had gone still, save for the occasional murmur of water lapping against stone.
Serena arrived on foot. She'd left the car two blocks away, blending in with the handful of late-night wanderers. No heels tonight—only soft leather boots that made no sound against the worn pavement.
She'd dressed for movement, not elegance. A long, dark coat, gloves, hair pinned up.
The time scrawled on the back of the photograph had not been a suggestion. She stepped onto the bridge at exactly 2:00 a.m.
---
The Watcher
From the center of the span, she could see nearly the entire length of the bridge. Empty, except for a man leaning against the railing halfway across.
Even from a distance, she recognized the neutral posture, the quiet self-assurance.
The man from the bar.
Her steps didn't falter as she approached, though every instinct told her to check the shadows. Bridges had blind spots, and blind spots were dangerous.
He didn't turn until she was ten feet away.
"You came alone," he said, voice low but carrying easily over the water.
"Did you expect otherwise?"
A faint smile touched his lips. "Most people in your position bring muscle."
"Most people in my position aren't me."
---
The Offer
He pushed away from the railing, facing her fully now. "You've been looking for me."
"I've been looking for answers," she corrected. "If you have them, now would be a good time to talk."
"I have more than answers," he said, reaching into his coat.
Serena tensed, but what he pulled out wasn't a weapon—it was a small, sealed envelope, identical to the one he'd left on Damien's desk.
"This one," he said, "is for you alone."
She didn't reach for it. "Why the games? Why the photographs?"
"Because you don't believe anything you can't see for yourself," he replied simply.
---
The Warning
He set the envelope on the railing between them. "What's inside will give you leverage over Damien Blackwood. Enough to turn this merger into whatever you want it to be."
Her pulse quickened, though she kept her face still. "And why would you help me do that?"
"Because I don't work for him," the man said. "And because if you don't take control now, neither of you will survive what's coming."
Serena studied him for a long moment. His expression was calm, but there was no mistaking the edge in his tone. This wasn't someone running a petty scam.
"What's coming?" she asked.
He didn't answer.
---
The Interruption
A faint scrape of shoe leather behind her made Serena turn sharply.
Damien stepped out from the shadows at the edge of the bridge, his coat collar turned up, eyes locked on the man opposite her.
"You're getting predictable, Langford," Damien said, coming closer. "And you—" he addressed the man—"have been trespassing in places you shouldn't be."
The man's expression didn't change. "You should thank me. I've kept her alive this long."
Damien's jaw tightened. "You're overestimating your importance."
---
No Agreement
Serena's gaze moved between them. "You know him."
"I know his type," Damien said.
The man smirked faintly. "You still don't see it, do you, Blackwood? This isn't about you. It's about the people you've been letting through your doors."
Damien took a step closer, but the man backed away, hands open.
"I'm not here to fight. I'm here to warn." His eyes flicked to Serena. "Read it. Tonight. And decide who you can afford to trust."
Without another word, he turned and walked toward the far side of the bridge, disappearing into the fog.
---
The Aftermath
Damien didn't speak until the man was gone. "You shouldn't have come alone."
"I didn't," Serena said, holding up the envelope.
"That's not backup. That's bait."
She slipped the envelope into her coat pocket. "Then let's see if I've been caught."