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Mission 6: Sacrificial Lamb

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It's amazing how words affected the world. Authors could become heroes writing revolutionary works. A speaker could influence with a speech. Gossip ruined lives. And jesters claimed ownership. Jesters like Adam.

He already left, but I was still racking my brain for a comeback—something sassy and fierce—but I came up blank.

My mood was foul the whole night until the next day because of it. I should've said my piece—the snarky, b*tchy piece of my mind. But no. I was too muddled to say 'F*ck off'.

I was still grinding my teeth on the elevator up to where Adam called for me. This time, he better not say things he didn't mean just for fun. Business. He should stick to business.

The Fortunello, waiting outside the private office, exchanged looks upon my arrival.

I entered the room after I was given permission. Adam was laughing with Anson Koni, Hawaii's business magnate by day and crook by night. He was even on the Commission's high-profile watch list.

He was nicknamed 'Fresh Koni' in his early days. Cheesy, just like how gangsters give an alias to themselves.

"How's Zachary?" he asked Adam, with a cigar between his grinning lips. He was fit, despite the age pushing sixty, and liked hunting sports and women.

"My little brother?" he said with emphasis, "Oh, he's dead."

"That's surprising." Then he puffed a smoke. "I thought he's hiding. Well, he's a coward. He turned his back against the Mafia for a new life. Shame."

"A coward, huh..." Adam stared at his wine as if searching for treasures at the dark liquid. "That's an interesting word choice, don't you think?" His face lifted up to me, asking for an opinion.

I shrugged, just glad he finally acknowledged my presence to get this over with. Zachary Orleonne was not dead; Adam just liked to play with words.

"Eevi, this is our friend Anson Koni."

The man finally gave me an acknowledging nod, lingering longer on my chest and greeting, "Aloha."

I knew a pervert when I see one, and he definitely fitted the category, same with the Joker beside him.

"You may not know it, but I saw you last night marching in the hallway in your robe. You look more beautiful up close."

Die, geezer. "Thank you, Sir." I figured out where this is going just a minute ago, but my itching fingers wouldn't touch the trigger for now.

"No need to call me sir, leimomi. I am still in my fifties. Call me Anson."

Fifties my ass. Late fifties! Fifty-eight to be exact, you filthy swine. And how dare he call me in an endearment as a "beautiful pearl"?

I glanced at Adam, who was surely hiding his smirk behind the wineglass. I really hoped he'll choke from whatever treasures are floating in it.

"Does this satisfy you, my friend?" Adam leaned on the couch.

"She is... a lovely bonus," Anson replied.

"The deal is set then." He then turned to me. "You'd be rewarded greatly after this."

Right on the dot. This Orleonne animal made me an additional tip for his negotiations, like a f*cking sacrificial lamb, to be butchered by another mammal.

The two conniving hyenas ogled at me like a piece of a big, fat and juicy meat, with additional spices. I never killed animals, should I start now?

'You don't have a choice. I own you now. You betrayed us, remember?'

Oh, right.

It's time to pay my dues.

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