Page 35 of Temptation and Tyranny

Good. Fear was useful.

“Henri,” I said, keeping my voice steady despite the pain in my shoulder. “You’ve caused me quite a bit of trouble.”

“Cooper, please,” he stammered. “It wasn’t personal. Rousseau said if we didn’t—”

I went still at the mention of Rousseau’s name. That explained a lot. Rousseau’s appearance at the gala, Viktor’s warning….

“Rousseau?” I interrupted. “Now that’s interesting.” I circled behind them slowly, letting the tension build. “So, he’s the one who wanted me dead?”

“He said either we help set you up, or he’d make sure we never sold another weapon in Europe,” the younger man, Philip, blurted out. “Said he’d kill our families if we warned you.”

I moved back into their line of sight. These men had been reliable suppliers for years. They weren’t killers—they were businessmen who’d gotten in over their heads with the wrong person. And now I knew who was really behind this.

“You know what the usual punishment is for betrayal,” I continued. Navarre’s face went pale. “But I’m feeling...generous today…even if your actions nearly got me killed.”

“Generous?” Navarre whispered, barely daring to hope.

“You’re going to tell me everything you know about Rousseau’s operation. What he’s planning, who he’s working with, where he keeps his merchandise. Then you’re going to take your business elsewhere. All of you. If I ever see you selling in my territory again, I won’t be so merciful.”

The relief on their faces was palpable. Behind me, I heard Colton shift his weight, probably surprised by my decision.

“Thank you, Cooper,” Navarre breathed. “We’ll tell you everything.”

And they did. Apparently Rousseau was getting desperate…which usually only meant one thing in our world—he was on the brink of ruin.

When they were done, I cut their zip ties and escorted them out with clear instructions never to return.

“You sure it was Rousseau behind the attack?” Colton asked, heading back to his truck. I followed, lagging behind as I tried to contemplate my newest enemy.

“I do. We’ve got to keep a close eye on him. It’ll be hard—he’s pretty heavily guarded and doesn’t make his business moves in public, preferring to work through others—but we’ll smoke him out.”

Colton drove us home, and the ride was silent until we approached the heart of the city. Finally, Colton spoke up. “That was unexpected. You never show mercy like that.”

I stared out the window at the passing city. “I’m just tired. And my shoulder hurts.”

“Or maybe you’re finally remembering there are other ways to handle things,” he said carefully. “Waysthat don’t involve adding more bodies to the Seine. Those men—they were scared into betraying you. You saw that.”

I thought about Allegra, about the way she’d looked at me this morning. About how for just a moment, I’d felt like a better man. “Maybe,” was all I said.

But Colton wasn’t done. “You know, it’s okay to want something different. To be someone different. What you did back there? That was smart. Now we know Rousseau’s behind this, and you didn’t have to kill anyone to get that information.”

I closed my eyes, suddenly exhausted. “It’s not that simple.”

“It could be,” he pressed. “You have options, Cooper. You always have. And now we can deal with Rousseau the right way—with information and strategy, not just brute force.”

I didn’t respond, but his words stayed with me. Options. Different choices. Maybe Allegra had shown me something I’d been trying not to see—that there might be another way to operate, even in this world of shadows. And now I had what I needed to eventually take down Rousseau without turning Paris into a war zone.

For the first time, that thought felt like a victory, not a compromise.

Chapter Twelve

Allegra

I approached thePalais de Justice, its neoclassical façade a stark reminder of the gravity of today’s proceedings. I took a deep breath, smoothing down my navy-blue skirt and straightening my posture. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of freshly baked croissants from a nearby café, but I barely noticed it. My mind was focused on one thing: ensuring Tomas faced justice for his crimes.

As I climbed the weathered stone steps, I couldn’t help but reflect on how I’d ended up here. Months ago, I was just a physical therapist, living a quiet life in Paris. Now, I was embroiled in a world of danger, intrigue, and legal proceedings that felt utterly foreign to me. And it all stemmed from my ill-fated relationship with Tomas and my subsequent entanglement with Cooper Moreau.

I pushed through the heavy wooden doors, immediately enveloped by the hushed atmosphere of the courthouse. The interior was a study in contrasts—ornate Belle Époque architecture with its high ceilings and elaborate moldings, now sharing space with modern security equipment. Groups ofavocatsin their distinctive black robes and whiterabatsmoved purposefully through the corridors, their presence lending gravity to the space.

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