At ten to eight in the evening, Montmartre Cemetery lay silent in the darkness, wrapped in mystery. Liam arrived early, but instead of heading to Degas’ tomb, he hid behind a massive cedar tree in the distance, watching. Moonlight was obscured by clouds, and only a few ground lamps dotted the cemetery, casting flickering halos of light.
He saw Isabella arrive first, dressed in a long black robe, like a high priestess stepped out of a classical oil painting. Next came “Pigeon” and several other familiar members—around six or seven in total. Leia was the last to appear, hurrying along with her trench coat fluttering behind her.
The scarred man was not among them, at least not on the surface.
Liam waited ten minutes, confirming there was no ambush before stepping out of the shadows and wal
