The night air outside the Louvre was deceptively calm. Streetlights cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets, and the city’s heartbeat—the distant sirens, the hum of traffic—masked the danger lurking in every alley. But Nayra and Arjunveer knew better. Danger had a rhythm, a pulse, and tonight it beat faster than ever.

They had barely stepped out of the Louvre when the first threat emerged. Black SUVs screeched to a halt nearby. Men in dark suits spilt onto the street, weapons drawn, their faces hidden behind masks. Nayra’s pulse didn’t quicken—her hands were already steady on the gun she had drawn moments before.