Chapter 2 - The Sniper's Shadow
""Down!"" Vincent bellowed, pivoting his body with an agility that belied his late sixties. He used his broad frame to shield Leo, hurling them both across the town car's leather backseat.
A muted thwack shattered the heavy silence. The tempered glass of the rear driver-side window spider-webbed into a thousand frosted fractures, absorbing the high-caliber subsonic bullet. Henri reacted with instantaneous combat instinct, drawing his suppressed pistol from his shoulder holster while diving behind the car's engine block.
""Move! Go!"" Vincent shouted through the partitioned cabin.
Henri did not waste time returning fire at an unseen rooftop marksman. He threw himself into the driver's seat, slammed the reinforced door, and floored the accelerator. The vehicle lurched forward, jumping the curb before rocketing into the Parisian thoroughfare, leaving smoking rubber streaks on the ancient stones. Leo was curled into a tight ball on the floorboards, his small hands clapped over his ears, trembling so hard his teeth audibly chattered.
Vincent reached down, hauling the child gently onto the leather seat beside him. ""You are safe, Leo. Look at me. Breathe. You are inside an armored vehicle.""
Leo opened his eyes, staring at the shattered starburst pattern on the window beside him. ""They won't stop. The man with the scar told mother they would erase us both. He said the de La Tour legacy died with her.""
A cold, lethal fury ignited in Vincent’s chest. The de La Tour estate was extensive, encompassing vast holdings across European banking, maritime shipping, and historical real estate. When his daughter Clara—Leo’s mother—had fled seven years ago, it was following a bitter accusation that someone within the board was systematically executing heirs to seize control of the trust. Vincent had thought it the paranoia of a grief-stricken young woman mourning the suspicious death of her fiancé. Now, the bullet in his window proved she had been right all along.
""Who took her, Leo? Did she say a name?"" Vincent asked softly, his silver beard tightening as his jaw set hard.
""She called him Julian,"" Leo whispered, clutching the fabric of Vincent’s sleeve. ""She told him he was a traitor to his own blood before he dragged her out the back door.""
Julian. The name struck Vincent like a physical blow. Julian de La Tour was Vincent’s nephew, the current chief operating officer of the family's multinational logistics network. Julian had sat across from Vincent at Sunday dinner just two nights ago, smiling warmly and discussing portfolio dividends.
Henri’s voice crackled over the intercom, grim and urgent. ""Monsieur, we have two unmarked black SUVs matching the sedan's transponder tailing us three cars back. They are closing the gap on the bridge.""
Vincent peered through the tinted rear glass. The heavy vehicles were aggressively shoving smaller European compacts out of their path, their grilles surging toward them like battering rams.
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Then, Vincent's personal phone in his pocket buzzed. The caller ID displayed a private, encrypted corporate line. Vincent answered and brought the device to his ear.
""Hello, Uncle,"" a smooth, chillingly familiar voice purred through the speaker. ""I see you've met my little cousin. Toss him out the door, and perhaps you'll live to see tomorrow.""
