Raphael was a middle-aged man with short hair sprinkled with gray. He was thin and in shape, looking like an American businessman in his blue suit. He served the president of France and ran the Senate and the National Assembly—as well as the French Emperors—a secret society within the Senate that did all the dirty work so no one else had to. We weren’t a group of vigilantes who wanted to punish crime. We wanted to run it—by our rules. We maintained crime, kept it healthy, and protected the innocent. Without us, the French Republic wouldn’t have the most romantic city in the world.
“I’ll handle it, Raphael.”
“You said that six months ago.”
I gave him a cold stare. “You want me to keep every criminal in this city in line. And you want me to capture the largest trafficker France has ever k
