Chapter 10 Helena
HELENA
Ihave thrown myself out of moving cars, been dragged behind a train, chased down by trained attack dogs, and bare-knuckle fought my way through a bike rally brawl—all while laughing—but sitting in first class on a one-hour trip across the ditch to France is where my brain draws the line.
Rude.
The last thing I had wanted Erryn to see was the panic that rolled over me when that plane started shaking, but I couldn’t snap myself out of it fast enough.
The landing had been relatively smooth, and we passed through security quickly, Erryn’s phone buzzing with a notification that the agents meeting us were already outside.
We had barely set foot through the doors and into the bitterly cold air outside when a tall figure dressed in a long dark coat and beanie approached us from a waiting car. I automatically stepped closer to Erryn as the person paused to unwrap the scarf from their face.
“Madame Chair,” the woman said, inclining her head slightly. “Welcome to Paris. We have spoken previously. I am Artemis.” She ran her assessing gaze over me in a way I recognized instantly.
She was tall for a woman. Neither Erryn nor I was short, which put Artemis comfortably over six foot.
Pale blue eyes measured us with cool precision, her features leaning slightly masculine.
The tips of her short, dark hair were just visible beneath a beanie, and above the collar of her coat, tattoos climbed the line of her throat.
“Your weapons are in the vehicle,” she continued, her accent a surprising mix of British with a faint French lilt. “Would you prefer to go to your accommodations first, or straight to base?”
“Straight to base,” Erryn said, shrugging into her own coat. “I wasn’t expecting you to collect us yourself.”
Artemis gave us a lopsided smile.
“I think you will find I approach things differently to my predecessor.”
“Speaking of,” Erryn said. “What is the update on Boucher?”
Artemis’s expression remained impassive as she led us past the line of waiting cars.
“He had a myocardial infarction in the safehouse and was transported to the private hospital under the guard of Toulouse—one of my most trusted. Boucher came out of surgery not long before you landed, and I’ve had a report he is in recovery but not yet conscious.”
“Is he expected to make a full recovery?” Erryn asked.
“It would appear so,” Artemis replied, and I swear I could detect a hint of irritation in her voice.
We slipped into the back of the sleek, matte graphite Peugeot, low and unassuming enough to vanish into traffic easily. Artemis stowed our bags in the trunk before slipping into the driver’s seat and passing back a canvas duffel without ceremony.
“Inventory is intact,” she said. “Magazines loaded. Safeties on.”
I opened the bag, my fingers finding the familiar weight and balance of a blade similar to the one I had to leave behind, sheathing that in the holder at my ribs, then taking a pistol too. I exhaled for what felt like the first time since Heathrow.
Erryn said nothing, but the tension in her shoulders eased a fraction as she checked her own weapon and slid it into place beneath her coat as the car pulled away smoothly. Artemis wove us through traffic in a blur of movement, Paris speeding past the windows as the first spatters of rain fell.
We stopped less than forty minutes later, on a narrow street that smelled faintly of urine. The building itself was forgettable with its cracked stone, single wooden door scarred with age and graffiti, and a small lit-up keypad embedded in the frame.
Artemis keyed in a code, pushing the door open, and we stepped into a different world.
Warm light spilled over polished marble floors, and crystal chandeliers hung from a ceiling high enough to swallow sound.
Beyond the entryway, I caught glimpses of velvet seating, dark wood paneling, and art that looked like it had come from the Louvre itself.
Erryn paused as she took it all in. “Subtle,” she said dryly.
Artemis grunted, sealing the door behind us with a dull beep as the thick locks clicked into place.
“Boucher has a flair for the dramatic.” She took off her coat and gestured for us to do the same.
We followed her through a corridor lined with more art, the scent of polished wood following us through the stillness.
My lip curled in distaste. Boucher was funding his own glorified art museum, paid for in blood.
“This way.” Artemis pushed open a door that led into a low-lit room humming with electronics. Monitors lined the walls, maps of Paris glowing with tiny colored dots that moved and shifted, and multiple agents moved around the space with purpose.
Erryn and I paused at the threshold as Artemis strode into the room, greeting a few people with short nods as she turned and gestured to a central console.
“Satellite feeds, local comms, internal security,” she said.
“Everything the faction generates comes through here first. You can have eyes on Paris in real time.”
I raised an eyebrow, impressed despite myself. I hadn’t been aware the Triarchy had this level of coordination. Erryn’s computer systems in her office were always running with data, but nothing on this level—yet judging from Erryn’s expression, none of this was unexpected.
“I assume you’re familiar with this level of intelligence, Madame Chair?” Artemis asked, her tone even, but I caught the faintest edge of amusement in the look she was giving Erryn. I bristled. There was an undercurrent of challenge that Artemis needed to check real fucking quickly.
“Careful now,” I warned, catching a flash of pale blue as Artemis heard me. The answering tilt of her lips in an insolent smile had me white-knuckling my temper.
Oh, I’d fucking gut her on this wanky velvet rug if she kept that up.
“Of course,” Erryn casually replied, seeming to have missed the exchange. She wandered around the room, stopping to observe a few agents before moving on.
Artemis exhaled sharply, leaning on the console as Erryn neared.
“Look, I’ll be blunt. What I need is to get this squared away.
I’ve been running Paris operations for seven years, and that hasn’t changed since Boucher went into the safehouse, on top of running my own investigation into the breach.
We know the issue is our systems not being airtight, and you being here is a waste of both our time. ”
Erryn huffed a laugh, giving Artemis a look that sent a small thrill down my spine. She turned slightly to the few agents that had paused in their work, now watching us curiously.
“Out,” she snapped, waiting in silence as they scurried to follow her order.
“With all due respect, this is not your—” Artemis began, but Erryn cut her off.
“Let me be blunt,” she said, her voice low.
“I’m here to authorize your position as appointed second-in-command.
But let’s not forget that Paris has been the weak link in this breach, and if you have been Boucher’s right-hand for seven years, I’m going to need some assurances that I am not handing authority over to someone who will be another disappointment.
And yes, Artemis. I do have the authority to take control of this faction until I am satisfied that you are capable. Blunt enough for you?”
Artemis straightened, tension coiling in her shoulders.
“I’ve documented everything. I’ve traced the breach vectors, identified weak points in internal communications, and begun countermeasures where I can.
But without official authority, everything I do is taking too long and unraveling in the process.
Having to pass everything through remote authority means I’m working with both arms tied behind my back rather than just the one. ”
Erryn studied her, expression unreadable.
“I want a full report on your findings,” she said finally.
“I want Boucher on a phone once he has pulled himself together enough to have a lucid conversation, and I will review the investigations you’ve been running.
Once verified, the delegation of power will be formal, and you’ll have the authority you need. But until then, nothing is final.”
Artemis’s jaw tightened, both women staring each other down for a long moment.
“If you will allow my agents back in, Loxley, I can have the information forwarded immediately,” Artemis said.
Oh, fuck this bitch.
“I will slice your nipples off and staple them to your eyeballs if you don’t remember who the fuck you are talking to,” I said, rounding on her.
Artemis paused, looking slightly taken aback. “Uh…”
“I don’t think that will be necessary, Rossi,” Erryn said dryly. “But the point should be made that I can either be one hell of an ally, or your worst fucking nightmare. Pick wisely, Artemis. I don’t tolerate disrespect.”
Artemis nodded once, though a muscle flexed in her jaw.
“Boucher’s office is on the level above, and I’ll have the codes sent to you if you wish to use that space during your time here,” she said evenly.
“I will have everything else you have requested forwarded to you by the end of the day. I have been advised that your own faction took care of accommodation. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” Erryn said. “I think I have seen all I need to for today. We can go through what I find in your files tomorrow.”
Artemis inclined her head, flashing me another look of barely concealed disdain.
This was going to be a fabulous week.