The club was in the 11th arrondissement, tucked between a closed-down restaurant and a tattoo parlor. Bass thumped from inside, vibrating the sidewalk. A neon sign flickered above the entrance: "Le Paradis."
Alex pulled the truck to the curb half a block away. "This is the place?"
"This is it." Lisa grabbed her small purse. "I'll be quick. Thirty minutes, maybe less."
"I'm coming with you."
"No." Lisa's tone was firm. "My source is paranoid. He sees me walk in with some guy he doesn't know, he'll bolt. I have to go alone."
"Lisa—"
"I'm not asking for permission, Alex. I'm telling you how this works." She opened the door. "Wait here. If I'm not out in an hour, then you can worry."
She slammed the door and walked toward the club entrance before Alex could argue.
'Are you fucking kidding me?' Alex thought, watching her disappear inside. 'She acts like she has options. Like I'm not the only thing standing between her and getting killed.'
He slumped back in his seat, hands gripping the steering wheel.
His phone buzzed. A text from Sara.
**Sara: Where are you? You haven't answered my calls.**
**Sara: I texted you yesterday. And this morning. Are you okay?**
**Sara: Alex?**
Then another message came through. An image this time.
Alex opened it and immediately felt heat rush to his face. Sara, lying on her bed, wearing nothing but a smile. The photo was tasteful but left little to the imagination.
**Sara: Missing you. When can I see you again?**
Alex stared at the photo for a moment, guilt twisting in his stomach. Sara. Beautiful, funny, uncomplicated Sara. She'd been genuine with him. No games. No hidden agendas.
And he'd disappeared on her.
'I should text her back.'
He typed out a response: **I'm okay. Work thing came up. I'll call you soon. Promise.**
It felt hollow. The truth was, he'd enjoyed their time together. Not just the sex, but the conversations. The laughter. The way she made him feel normal.
'I wish I had more time with her.'
But wishing didn't change reality.
Alex pocketed his phone and stared at the club entrance.
'June, what happens if I don't hit her?'
**
Alex's jaw clenched. 'So either I do it, or they do it. And my way at least gives her a chance.'
**
'I need to move fast then.'
**[Impact Deadline: 47 hours, 32 minutes remaining]**
The countdown appeared in his vision, ticking down steadily.
'June, I need your help.'
**
Alex's eyes stayed fixed on the club entrance, his mind working.
---
Inside the club, Lisa pushed through the crowded dance floor, music pounding in her ears. Bodies pressed against her as people danced, drinks in hand, lost in the rhythm.
She scanned the room, looking for Marcus.
There. Near the back. VIP section.
Marcus sat on a leather couch, bald head shining under the club lights. A bottle of expensive champagne sat on the table in front of him. Two strippers danced on either side of him - one grinding against his lap, the other bent over.
Marcus slapped one of the stripper's asses hard.
*Smack!*
"That's right, baby! You know what Daddy likes!" He threw a wad of cash in the air, bills fluttering down. "I got money to burn tonight!"
Lisa's jaw clenched. 'What the fuck.'
She marched over, grabbing Marcus by the arm. "We need to talk. Now."
Marcus looked up, his face going from cocky to shocked in an instant. "Lisa?! Holy shit! I thought you were—"
"Dead? Kidnapped? Yeah, well, I'm not." She yanked him to his feet. "Let's go. Somewhere private."
"But I'm—"
"Now, Marcus."
She dragged him away from the VIP section, through a side door that led to a quieter hallway. The bass was muffled here, just a dull thump through the walls.
Marcus stumbled, adjusting his shirt. "Jesus, Lisa. You scared the hell out of me. When I heard Tatiana got you, I thought..." He trailed off, then his face brightened. "But hey, I tried! I really tried to get you out! Called in every favor I had. Talked to some dangerous people. Risked my neck for you!"
Lisa stared at him. "You did what?"
"Yeah! I mean, it wasn't easy. But I pulled strings. Made connections. I was working on a plan to—"
"Cut the shit, Marcus." Lisa's voice was ice. "Where's the USB?"
Marcus's face faltered. "The... the USB?"
"The one with Kozlov's financial records. The offshore accounts. The wire transfers. Everything we need to bury him." Lisa stepped closer. "Where is it?"
Marcus swallowed. "Look, Lisa, about that..."
"Don't tell me you don't have it."
"I... I couldn't find it."
"What?"
"I looked everywhere! I swear! But after you got grabbed, things got... complicated. People were watching me. Following me. I had to lay low."
Lisa's hands clenched into fists. "You had one job, Marcus. ONE. Hold onto that USB until I got back."
"It's not my fault! You don't know what it's been like! These people are serious. They—"
"I know how serious they are!" Lisa's voice rose. "I'm the one who got sold at a fucking auction!"
Marcus flinched. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. But listen, it's not that bad. I mean, you lost your file too, right? Tatiana got it from you. So we both lost our copies. We can call it even."
The word "even" hit Lisa like a slap.
Her hand moved before she could think.
*Smack!*
The slap echoed in the hallway. Marcus stumbled back, hand flying to his reddening cheek.
"Even?!" Lisa's voice shook with fury. "You think this is EVEN?!"
"Lisa, I—"
"I was tortured for information! Sold like property! And you think losing a USB drive makes us even?!"
Marcus's expression shifted. The nervousness faded, replaced by something uglier. Resentment.
"Yeah, well, maybe if you weren't so fucking reckless, you wouldn't have gotten caught." His voice turned cold. "Always playing the hero. Always thinking you're smarter than everyone else."
Lisa's eyes narrowed. "What did you do, Marcus?"
"Nothing. I didn't do anything."
"You're lying."
"I'm not—"
"What. Did. You. Do."
Marcus's jaw tightened. Then he laughed. A short, bitter sound. "You want to know? Fine. I'll tell you."
He straightened up, no longer cowering. "I sold it. The USB. Sold it to Kozlov's people for 500,000 euros."
Lisa's blood ran cold. "You what?"
"And that's not all." Marcus smiled, but there was no humor in it. "They offered me another 250,000 if I delivered you. Guess what? You just delivered yourself."
Lisa's hand went to her purse, reaching for the pepper spray she always carried.
But Marcus was faster. He grabbed her wrist, twisting it hard enough to make her drop the purse.
"You arrogant bitch," Marcus hissed. "You think you're so special. So important. But you're just a journalist who got too close to the wrong people. And now you're going to disappear. Permanently."
Lisa drove her knee up into his groin.
Marcus doubled over with a gasp, and Lisa used the opportunity to grab the back of his head and slam it into the wall.
*Crack!*
Blood spurted from his nose. Marcus screamed, hands flying to his face.
"You broke my fucking nose!"
"Good!" Lisa grabbed her purse and ran.
She burst back into the club, shoving through the crowd. Behind her, she could hear Marcus yelling, calling for security.
'Shit, shit, shit!'
She pushed past dancers, past the bar, heading for the exit. Behind her, she heard shouts. Heavy footsteps. They were coming.
Lisa burst through the front door into the cool night air. She looked left, then right.
Alex. Where was Alex?
There. The truck. Half a block away.
She sprinted toward it, her heart pounding. Behind her, the club door slammed open. Men in suits poured out.
"There! Get her!"
Lisa ran faster, her lungs burning. The truck was so close. Just a little further.
She was twenty feet away. Then fifteen. Then ten.
Behind her, the men were gaining. She could hear their footsteps, their shouts.
Five feet.
She reached for the passenger door handle.
Then, from the side street, headlights blazed to life.
Another vehicle. Coming fast. Too fast.
Lisa turned her head, and the last thing she saw was blinding white light before the impact hit her.
The force lifted her off her feet, throwing her several feet through the air before she hit the ground and everything went black.