Under the choking veil of a humid, slate-gray dusk, a young woman shivered violently against the cracked brick wall of an abandoned storefront on Rue des Martyrs. Her body writhed not just from the merciless chill seeping through her ragged clothes, but from the potent cocktail of withdrawal and dread. Looming over her, a woman’s glinting pistol caught the fading light; harsh kicks echoed sharply as the victim curled tighter, eyes wide with panic and pain. The air hung thick with menace, the silence shattered only by ragged breaths and the sporadic, threatening jingles of a nearby police radio. Neighbors looked away, the usual hum of the district drowned beneath the weight of fear and whispered rumors.