Hello again. I found the two previous chapters that I just posted lying around on my computer the other day, which reminded me to come back and finish this darn thing. Apologies for the long lay-off, but I'm back with an actual plan for finishing. Happy reading, tickgrey

First thing was first. Where was I? I didn't let my pace up at all as I bobbed and weaved through alleyways and side roads. Rue de Thionville was on the nearest road sign. That didn't really mean anything to me geographically. How was I going to find my way to the office? There were no shops open, so I couldn't grab a map.

I started to slow my pace so I could check my surroundings. It didn't look like I was being followed. I stopped at a street corner. It had to be 4 am or so by now. People would start waking up soon. Time to get this done for good.

That's when I spotted it. Paris' very own North Star. The Eiffel Tower sat there, never moving. It never looked quite so beautiful to me as it did now. I never what the view of the tower looked like from the Circle's headquarters. I took off running once again.

Having memorized the brick pattern on the office building, I could definitely tell you that the burnt, crumbling wall in front of be was not how I left it yesterday. I walked around the building looking for threats.

Suddenly, the a small explosion on one of the upper floors rocked the building. I had to hurry. Surely something or someone still in there was the key to taking down the Circle, and if I let it burn, I was losing the only lead I had.

The door of the building flung open easily enough, it had evidently already been shimmied open, likely by Catherine. I ran through the front lobby until I found the stairwell. When I arrived at the source of the explosion, the floor had already begun to catch fire.

Someone had already disabled the security features, and the door sat lazily half open. Clearly whoever was here last had left in a hurry. Smoke filled the air, so I tucked my mouth into my shirt and tried to breathe calmly. Focus, Cameron. Find the intel and the get out. That's the mission here.

There wasn't much around the cubicles that screamed "international terrorist organization." Everything from the family pictures to the desktop computers looked perfectly normal. I guess that was the point though. You don't put an office building in the dead center of Paris just to then build some kind of supervillain lair.

I found what looked like a file room through the smoke, which was getting blacker by the minute. The door was locked with some kind of biometric hand reader. I wasn't going to be able to break that in the time I had before I was on fire, but since there was no one around and the alarm was already disabled, I grabbed the nearest chair and began to throw it at the window on the door.

First time was not the charm for me, but the second time did lead to a nice smattering of cracked window. I grabbed the leg of the chair and started smashing away the broken glass. Using the chair now as a step, I jumped through and into the file room.

At first glance it was a normal file room, only there were no files in there. All of the cabinets were empty. Either someone had cleaned them out or it was a decoy. There was, however, a safe in the wall. It hadn't been touched.

I'll admit, I've never actually learned how to crack a safe open, but the coffee cup on the table combined with the overwhelming desire to see what was inside. I snatched the cup and made my way over to the safe. I pressed my ear against the cup and started in on the tumbler.

This wasn't exactly a top of the line safe, but it was good enough that my completely novice skills weren't going to cut it. Relief rushed over me when I heard the familiar, arrogant chime of, "Why don't you let me do that, Gallagher Girl?"

"And how would you know how to do this, Zach?" I turned with a smile.

He pointed at himself, "Spy."

He grabbed the cup and within five minutes, the safe creaked open. He motioned towards the safe, "You do the honors."

A single flash drive. I had a pretty strong feeling what was on this flash drive, but this whole moment was still a bit anticlimactic. I turned to Zach, "Flash drive."

He nodded, "Let's go."

There are three groups of agents I've encountered in my time working ops. One will always treat me as an underling. Some of them for good reason because I obviously still had a lot to learn, and others just for arrogance. Some will always treat me as a superior, due to age or my abnormal amount of op experience for a spy in training. And some will treat my like an equal. Zach was the last kind, and I liked it.

On my way out, I noticed another flash drive sitting on one of the cubicle desks. It was sitting in a shrink-wrapped package, but I decided to grab it anyways. Zach pulled me by the hand as the flames drew closer. We sprinted down the stairs and made for the lobby.

"This way!" Zach yelled, but I had already started towards the door I came in from. Neither of us had time to change our mind before an explosion detonated in the middle of the lobby.

"Zach!" I yelled as a choked back the fire in my throat. "Zach!"

"I'm okay," I heard his voice whimper. "Just get out of here!"

I continued sprinting towards the exit. I cough and blood dripped out of my mouth. The whole world rattled, and my head seemed to shake. How close was I to that explosion?

When I made it outside, I began to do a basic scan of my surroundings. Even as my head felt like it was being sent through a wood chipper, my basic instincts kicked in. I clasped my fingers around the flash drives in my pocket, having left the shrink wrap in the building.

"Cammie, dear," a familiar sing-song voice called from behind me. Evidently, everything was not clear.

"Catherine," I spat with blood. The name was like a curse coming off my lips.

I turned to see her holding a gun directly at me through the haze. Clearly, my usefulness to the splinter group and thoroughly run its course. I flashed a smile as best I could, "And here I thought we were becoming such good friends."

Catherine shrugged, "Wouldn't be the first time you misjudged someone."

"If anyone has a reason to pull a gun, it should be me," I pointed out. "Aren't you the one who tried to blame a massive assassination conspiracy on me?"

"Stick and stones," she chided. "Now that I've destroyed the leadership of the Circle once and for all, all that's left is to do is cut off loose ends."

"Which is me," I pointed out. I was growing weaker. My hands were red as well now. Where had all this blood come from? Where was Zach?

"Well, eventually the rest of your little band of misfits, but yes, you do know the most out of all of them," she said.

I laughed, "They don't tell me a thing."

"Yes, well, that didn't seem to stop you from getting the ledger," she smiled. "The one in your pocket."

"Oh, so that's what that is," I tried to seem calm, but clearly my pain was showing through. "I found that on the floor. Looks like trash."

I fingered the two drives in my pocket. One was smooth and even, the other rough and worn. I let my fingers rest on the smooth one. Catherine said, "Well, seeing as I have a gun pointed at your head, why don't you just let me take it?"

I shook my head, which felt like someone had decided to send multiple knives through my skin. "No."

She cocked the gun, "Now. Or I'll just take it when you're dead."

"Fine," I sighed and threw it over.

"I'm a bit disappointed. I thought you'd put up a fight," she smiled as she caught the blood-covered drive. She raised the gun once more. "Goodbye, Cammie."

I dove. Two shots. Something pierced through me. I felt my chest being ripped apart. As I crumbled to the cobblestone floor, I looked down to see a single red circle growing on the right side of my chest. It joined the rest of the blood. So much blood. Where had the second shot landed?

My vision was getting foggy, but I could make out another fallen body in front of me. Catherine. A man began to run up to me. I tried to get up and run, but there was nothing left in my legs to propel me.

I couldn't make out anything as my vision blacked out, but I felt a hand press something against the center of all the pain. I tried to jerk away again, but a voice I recognized to be my CoveOps teacher calmly instructed, "Relax, Cammie. I told you I wasn't leaving."