“What’s gotten into you? Why would you invite Daniella into the Club?” asked Vincent to me when we were left alone in the table.
This man is notorious for his keen eyesight that’s why we call him the Tactical Operations Specialist. He’d look at say, a blueprint of a castle, and in just an amount of thirty minutes he could already memorize all of the details in it. My plan, even though it is embedded in my brain, didn’t escape his inquisition. Even though he looks like the combined Shakespeare and Beethoven with his talent in Arts and Music, he is one hard core killer.
The only difference between us is I have killed more damned souls than him, and I enjoy it.
“I have my own reasons Vincent,” I stated whilst shifting in my seat. I stared at the half-finished cranberry juice Daniella had left, specifically the trace of pink lipstick on its rim.