We drove across town to the 4th arrondissement, the roads empty at this hour. My witness was in a different car, a gun held to his temple. With the window cracked, I smoked a cigar, passing the old buildings and seeing Notre-Dame come into view, the cranes still in place because the renovation would take years.
Fleur texted me. You awake?
I’d been simmering in the back seat, burning underneath my clothes. The women I’d liberated were being taken to a safe house by the guys. After they showered and changed their clothes, they would be given money and papers to head on their way or be reunited with the families from which they were stolen. Most of the girls weren’t even legal adults yet. I wanted to ignore Fleur’s message and let her think I was asleep because I was in a pissed-off mood, b
