Clandestine | 18+

4~Questions

yad- sped up

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"When you fool someone, don't forget to see if they are doing the same ."

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Alonzo Pierce

Igor Kuznetsov was dead.

The head of the Russian mafia, the one I was going to kill today, was apparently killed yesterday, on a strip club, while I was planning his death.

Killed by Clandestine.

I never had a problem with her presence, she killed good. I respected her work. The security guard I threatened to talk said while stuttering that she had offered him a night for free and apparently was allowed to enter as Igor's prostitute. They said she wore a black bodysuit lingerie with jeans. This was the first kill of hers in a public place. Apparently the girl was 5'5, apparently a 'hot body' as much as the bodyguards were concerned. They said she had full breasts and ass, and a small waist. She could pass for a fucking model they said.

Maybe she ordered someone to distract them.

A girl with that description couldn't kill Igor in a public strip club which was in his own name. I had planned his death for months. To strike at his own house. I had tracked him down for months, each one of his footsteps. And a 5'5 small girl took him down? I didn't believe it.

The bodyguards were sure the girl was a model. They were convinced she was natural. They said they had been with too many to identify.

I didn't trust their opinion.

I entered home, at about 8am and I was faced with Estelle talking with the chef.

"A carrot isn't cut like that." She said in that high pitched voice that fucked with my ear drums. I remembered how her father said how she didn't even know how to cut a carrot and started walking, shaking my head at her stupidity.

"What?" My chef said in the kitchen, behind the kitchen island she was sitting on.

I was about to pass until her words stuck and made me stop.

"A carrot doesn't get cut like that, darling" her voice dropped for a moment before raising again.

Another voice. Not high pitched. I turned to look at them.

"And what do you know about cutting?" my chef turned and crossed her hands, pushing them higher trying not to look small compared to Estelle.

She smiled and tilted her head right.

Something about her expression was different. Colder.

"Give me the knife." She used that high pitched voice, but now I knew it wasn't the only one she was capable of. My chef saw her. Something in her expression made her listen to her.

She jumped from the tall stool behind the kitchen island and took a carrot. She placed it on a wood suitable for cutting, and held my chef's gaze while cutting the carrots faster than I thought could be possible, without even looking or cutting herself. She dropped the knife on the counter when she was done.

"Learn to do your fucking work, darling." That tone returned for a brief second on the last word, making my chef shudder, her eyes cold, her face emotionless. She then smiled and returned to her stool taking her phone and saying in a high pitched voice to the chef.