Part I, Chapter VMature

Evette slipped on a long black peacoat and put on a pair of Louis Vuittons. She grabbed her purse and proceeded to go downstairs. She looked over at the Monsieur, making sure he wasn’t awake. Seeing that he wasn’t, she slipped out of the townhouse silently. Luckily, her family’s townhouse was only about a ten minute walk from the Monsieur’s, so that’s where she decided to go. She walked under a street lamp that illuminated the stone road dimly. It had rained earlier, and the streets still had a gentle film of water on them, reflecting almost anything that came within its view.

Evette put her key into the front door of the house, which was situated between some other expensive homes, and walked inside. The Dupont family only used their townhouse during the winter, due to the country roads being a pain to travel through. The only light that shone through was that of the streetlamp directly in front of the living room window. She tossed her purse on a small round table in the middle of the foyer, and went upstairs. Evette couldn’t actually remember the last time she stayed at the townhouse, but she figured now, she would just move in here.

“It’s cozy enough.” Evette said to herself, “Not nearly big as the chateau however. I’ll manage.”

Evette sat down on the bed, and just thought. Evette’s mind was nothing but a spiraling staircase of feelings and emotions. The vivid image of her parents dead bodies still haunted her. The smell of sophistication and faint cigar smoke still kept its home within her nose. Evette knew that her life would always be strange, as she didn’t know anyone in her field of work that actually lived a normal life. Evette walked over to the bedroom window and pushed the chiffon curtains aside. Nothing extraordinary happened; a few cars drove by and she saw a few women were outside on the corner, trying to make ends meet.

“Next week. -C”

“Good. See you then. -E”

“Round three. -C”

“Definitely. -E”

Evette sat her phone down on the desk next to her and went into the bathroom. She took her hair out of its ponytail and turned the knob of the bath. She undid the peacoat and let it fall to the floor. She took off her shoes and got into the scalding water. Evette slid back in the large black tub and closed her eyes. Her breathing became labored as the water warmed her skin. Evette allowed time to pass on as it always did, not caring whether or not she took a nap inside the bath.

Near the end of her nap in the tub, Evette heard a car roll up to her home. Quickly, Evette got out of the tub and tried to dry off as much as she possibly could. She went to her closet and put on a beige cami and a white leather jacket. She then slipped into a pair of black skinny jeans and ran downstairs. She peeked outside from the french door and saw that it was the Monsieur’s car. Relieved, Evette opened the door and approached. As she approached the car, she saw the outline of another person, beside the Monsieur. The car suddenly turned off and the two men got out of the car. One was the Monsieur, she could tell by his circular rimmed glasses, but the other man she could not tell, until his face hit the light. Andreas Garcetti.

“My, my, what do we have here?” Evette asked calmly, staring at Garcetti and the Monsieur.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Evette. You see, Garcetti wasn’t the target; your family was.” The Monsieur said, a frown formed on his face.

“Me? The target?” Evette asked, trying not to laugh.

“You see, Evette, it was all set up from the beginning. You were going to be distracted, busy ridding Italy of one of the most hated women, therefore making the château completely vulnerable. Of course, being a family friend, I sacrificed myself for them, they would never deny me access. Don’t worry, something told me they knew.” The Monsieur said, shaking his head at Evette, “It was a damn shame, good people.”

Evette shook her head in disbelief; truly the Monsieur could not have been behind all of this. But, she knew she couldn’t put it past him, after all, she learned that one can never fully trust a person in her line of work. That, she remembered, she learned the hard way. She waited for a moment before speaking again, inferring that perhaps Garcetti would have said something, however, he didn’t.

“So, which one of you is going to get the pleasure of killing me?” Evette said, standing tall and speaking with confidence.

Garcetti stepped forward, “That would be I.”

“Very well.” Evette said, taking in a deep breath.

“In fact, I want to play the same little game, you played with me.” Andreas said, going back to the Bentley and grabbing his revolver.

“Very well, I’ll get us some drinks. If you will just follow me.” Evette said gracefully.

Garcetti followed Evette back into the townhouse, leaving the Monsieur out in the dark, damp night. Evette shut the french door behind her and walked into the kitchen. She opened the cupboard and grabbed two crystal glasses and a half drank bottle of Scotch. Evette walked over to the counter closest to the sink, and grabbed a bottle of Viagra. She took a spoon out of the utensil drawer and crushed it into a fine powder, putting eight of them in total. She stirred his drink around, making sure no particles were seen. Then, she poured herself a drink.

“There we are.” Evette said, sitting the drinks on the mahogany table.

“It’s a shame, Evette. You were a damn good assassin, especially when it came to killing a child. not many can do that. But of course, I did hear you give a short gasp when you pulled the trigger. You had to have had some feeling towards him.” Garcetti said, raising the glass to his lips, “Go on, you’ll go first.”

“How many bullets?” Evette asked.

“Three.” Garcetti responded, taking a sip of the Scotch.

Evette placed the barrel of the revolver in her mouth, her heart beating vigorously. Evette’s life flashed before her eyes as she slowly pulled the trigger. Click. Evette sat the gun down on the table, and spun the barrel towards Garcetti. Something wasn’t right, she thought. Why would Garcetti want to risk his life as well?

“I see you’ve beaten the odds once more.” Garcetti said, putting the gun in his mouth, click.

Nothing. Garcetti spun the gun back towards Evette, and she picked it up promptly. She raised her eyebrow to Garcetti, and pulled the trigger. Nothing. That had been three shots, meaning that the next one was going to actually go off. Evette spun the revolver around her index finger, and then slid it over to Garcetti.

“I see. Well, if this is how it must end.” Garcetti said, slowly grabbing the gun.

“It was a shame your plan didn’t go at all how you had hoped.” Evette said, shaking her head.

Evette watched as Garcetti put the barrel of the gun in his mouth. However, she didn’t see him shaking or anything. Something was clearly wrong. Time, to Evette, had ceased to exist. She breathed in deeply, and then exhaled, waiting for the shot to go off. Evette watched as Garcetti’s finger slowly pushed the trigger back. Click. Nothing.

“Farewell, Evette Dupont.” Garcetti said, taking the gun out of his mouth and pointing at Evette.

“Come on, Mr, Garcetti, have just one more sip.” Evette said, raising her glass.

“And why, would I do that?” Garcetti said shortly.

“Please, just give a girl her final wish.” Evette said in a convincing sad tone.

“Hmph! Fine.” Garcetti said, downing the glass of Scotch.

“Feel better?” Evette asked politely.

Garcetti laughed at Evette, and pointed the revolver right at her head. She heard him cock the hammer back. Evette deep in one deep breath, and waited. Her life flashed before her eyes as she waited for Garcetti to pull the trigger. Time seemingly stopped as she waited; waited to live, waited to die. Garcetti pulled the trigger, and the gun fired. Evette clenched her eyes, then realizing that she wasn’t the one that had been shot.

“This wasn’t part of the plan.” Garcetti said, falling to his knees.

Evette quickly stood and took the gun from the floor. She pointed it at the dark silhouette, waiting to pull the trigger. Her hands trembled as she waited for the figure to approach her. She soon saw the outline of a cane, realizing that it was the Monsieur.

“Give me one good reason not to shoot you!” Evette shouted, pointing the gun directly at his head.

“Because, without me, how will you ever survive?” The Monsieur said, dropping his pistol on the ground.

“You set me up, and I cannot trust you. I’ll find someone else.” Evette said, slowly cocking the hammer once more.

“Oh Evette, you’re so naive. Do you really think I would let someone kill my greatest assassin?” The Monsieur said, walking closer.

“I don’t give a shit what you think anymore.” Evette said, pulling the trigger.

The Monsieur fall back as the bullet entered his skull. His body made a loud thump as it hit the floor. A pool of thick red blood covered the floor, though most of it was absorbed by the Monsieur’s coat. Evette went back upstairs, packing everything into her suitcases. She returned downstairs, looking at the scene, and shut the door, but not before taking the key to the Monsieur’s Bentley. She got into the car, and started it. Driving away, and never looking back.

The End

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