The bike cut through the streets of Paris like a blade slicing through water, fast, precise, and unpredictable, weaving between traffic before suddenly shifting course toward older roads where the presence of cameras thinned and the digital eyes of the city grew weaker.
Ghost and Marcel followed at a controlled distance, their car blending into the flow, neither too close to alert nor too far to lose sight.
Rainwater still lingered along the edges of the streets, reflecting the passing lights in broken fragments, while the city slowly gave way to quieter, less monitored zones.
Marcel kept both hands steady on the wheel, his eyes tracking the bike's movement with growing curiosity.
"This man is clever," Marcel said, his voice low but impressed.
Ghost did not take his eyes off the target.
"He runs a nuclear energy facility," he replied calmly. "He is trained to think several steps ahead."
Marcel exhaled softly.
