Chapter 8-Master

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Midnight played with the ring around her finger; twirling it, twisting it, slidinging it up and down her soft skin

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Midnight played with the ring around her finger; twirling it, twisting it, slidinging it up and down her soft skin. She had been lounging in this silk white chase for three hours now waiting for the Marquess to grace her with his presence. The sharp heel of her stiletto poked into the delicate fabric. If she pushed any harder surely she would make a hole.

The longer she had to wait the more anxious she had become. Midnight typically didn't like to stay in the same place longer than necessary, but unfortunately, some missions required her to wait for hours at a time. Midnight was dead set on no one finding out her identity (except those of course she trusted more than life itself). Thus, why she wears a mask. She wasn't like the assasins you read about in books (the ironicy). She didn't wait for her targets in clubs, she rarely showed up anywhere in public places unless it was one of her own establishments. Midnight liked to catch her prey in their own territory, not in a foreign one. She likes to welcome them home with the present of her beauty and company. The last present they'll ever receive. Quite generous of her, isn't it?

"Is this idiot ever going to come home?" Midnight mutters to herself. Not too loud considering servants were roaming around this knock off House of Versai. None of them had even entered his bed chambers. She had a guess on why. The gaudy gold paint and tacky floral designs, along with the god awful blinding mirrors and pictures of naked women would give anyone a headache. Her head swarmed with all the ways she would make this man suffer. Not only did he cheat on his wife with other woman, he also sent pornographic photographs to young children. The children of his fellow noblemen and noblewomen. "He can't last longer than a minute?"

As the last word leaves her lips the chamber door opens and the old, balding, round, and short, enters the room. His stomach is threatening to pop out of white button up. The fabric strains against his pale and wrinkled skin. He doesn't notice her at first, instead he starts unbuttoning his pants. "There will be no need for that," Midnight purrs. She takes out her whip and lashes it in his direction. The leather curls around his wrist and he shrieks in pain as it slices into his skin. He lets out a string of curses in French.

She releases the whip and strikes out against his stomach. The fabric rips away into shreds. A maid bursts through the door along with a guard. She lets a dagger fly. It imbeds into the awful gold wall next to the maids head. She shrieks in fear and cowers away. The guard takes out his gun and points it at her. She gives him props, his hand is steady and he looks confident.

"I suggest you get out of here," Midnight says in French while twirling another dagger around her knuckles. She's still laying down, but her face is angled in the direction of the crying whale, the cowering maid, and the guard. "That is, unless you want a dagger imbedded in your forehead." The maid nods and scurries away. The guard doesn't lower his gun, but I flicker of doubt and fear flicker across his face. "This man is a child predator. He sends pictures of his pathetic excuse of a penis to little girls and boys. Think of your daughter. I know you have one." His eyes widen and he nods. "Make sure no one enters this room." He nods once again and leaves.

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