Chapter 4: Disgust, Fear, and Anger

"The dress fits you well, ma'am. It perfectly complements your light complexion. The saleslady complimented me with such a happy expression. I don't know if that was a real compliment or if she’s hoaxing me into purchasing this dress, but I actually think it looks good on me too.

I watched myself and twirled my body to see every corner of the dress in the human-sized mirror. "How much is this dress?" I asked. I love this; it's defining my curves well.

"230 thousand, ma'am," she cheerfully said.

"Okay. I'll take it, and also the purse I picked earlier," I said.

She seemed very pleased with what I said and immediately helped me with carrying my belongings as she assisted me while heading back to the lobby.

"Let's proceed to the counter, ma'am."

I gave Pierre's card. Actually, I can afford to pay for everything that I have purchased but I decided to use Pierre's funds since is a merit for being his sheltered hoe.

I sighed, will I really survive a month with Pierre? As I travelled my gazes, a look from the mestizo man at the cashier caught my attention..

"Uh, miss, I think I will also take the scarf we tried earlier. Can you please take it for me?"

I gently asked the saleslady, who immediately complied. After she left, I immediately approached the man who was working at the cashier's counter.

"When did you hire a new employee? Is she among us?" I hissed and he raised his hands like a form of surrendering.

"Easy, easy, baby," he chuckled. "She's a newbie. A normal lady who needs a decent job. In short, not among us," he even made an ‘X’ sign using his hands.

This man right here is Calen. He holds a reputable name in an underground intelligence organization. He is also the owner of this clothing shop. Accordingly, he just misses his good old days, so he usurps the position of his cashier, Hanz, his younger brother who also belongs to the organization that Calen is in.

This is where I secretly transact with my clients most of the time. I take orders referred by Calen in this shop, as well as all the other transactions related to my missions.

Calen is a tech pro. He's not a nerd, though. He doesn't wear glasses, like the stereotyped programmers. He’s the total opposite of what you would physically and visually imagine.

"Well, did you find out anything?" I asked, looking around because the saleslady might go back.

He proudly nodded and took a small brown envelope from the drawer below him and placed it on the counter. "As you wish, milady."

I slowly removed the tape attached to the opening of the envelope, avoiding tearing the contents. While doing it, Calen is busy talking about topics that I am not actually interested in.

"167cm tall, hazel-colored hair, emerald pupils, shoe size 46, etcetera, etcetera." Calen lowered his voice while recalling every information that I stated.

"Among the list of guests, only one person matched all the descriptions," he added.

On the other hand, I am excited to see this man. Damn you, Pierre, now my job is a lot easier. He should prepare for the worst. I would ask him for the most extravagant thing that I could find. This is great! I won't have a hard time figuring out who needs to be taken down.

Anyway, don't worry about the saleslady coming back. It will take her forever to find the scarf I asked for because it is in my pocket.

As soon as I pulled the photo out, I immediately felt shivers all over my body. My mouth dropped slightly when I saw who was in the photo. I knew my body was shaking in fear, but I was so absorbed and stoned that I couldn’t comprehend the situation. I just stood there, looking at the photo with awe, and I gently gritted my teeth while the person in front of me was proudly smiling, not knowing a thing. I faked a smile.

"As usual, you're the best." That's all I can say before pulling the scarf out of my pocket and leaving it on the counter. "Thanks, Calen. I owe you one, as always.

I was about to leave when Calen suddenly called my name out. This time, when I looked back, he was staring at me with a cold and sad expression.

"Remember when Hanz first introduced you to this filthy job?" he frowned. I know that he still remembers that because it happened not too long ago, but why is he suddenly asking?

"Yeah, your hair was red back then," I joked. Hiding the uncomfortable feeling that I've been enduring since I saw the photo.

He nodded, maintaining the serious emotion in his face. "I warned you, didn't I? That you shouldn't be hanging out with people like us?"

"What are you suddenly babbling about, Calen?" I laughed awkwardly.

"I felt like we stole your life an opportunity to live decently. You could've been with decent people. If you did, you could have had a better life. Maybe you'll be a businesswoman, a model, or an actress." He came closer and greeted me with a hug, and while we were on it, he whispered as if someone else was listening to us inside his tiny clothing shop.

"If you want to restart, Amanda, I am willing to help you escape and hide. You don't have to do these brutal jobs. I can't imagine you completely losing your humility and conscience.

As if those words stabbed my heart. I felt pain and a heavy feeling. I also remembered unwanted memories from my past, but it’s strangely not enough to make me cry. Instead, those words left me numb.

"Thank you, Calen, but I won't," I answered softly while still not letting go of his embrace.

"I am here. We are here in this situation, Calen, because of the people who drove us to be here."

With that, he finally let go of me. That's where I said goodbye and left. After that, I drove home. I turned on my car's radio, and the news about the death of a millionaire was the first to be aired. It's the old molester that I recently killed.

My grip on the steering wheel tightened, and I gritted my teeth. My fingertips felt like my palms were crazy cold. My mind was drowning in a mixture of anger and annoyance.

I yelled while hurrying to drive home to Pierre's mansion. When I finally arrived, I didn't bother to park my car properly. I immediately lashed out at his office. The steps are heavy and ready to release all the things I want to say, the anger I've pent up, and the disgust I felt as I realized why he doesn’t want me to know who the man is.

I raged into his office, and he was right there with Harold. They were discussing something while Pierre was sitting at the table and Harold was standing, holding the papers. My entrance completely caught their attention. It’s as if he realized what was going to happen. He sent Harold out, giving us privacy.

"Fuck you, Pierre!" I immediately snorted. Harold's eyes widened as he was still on the brink of closing the door, while Pierre gave me his signature cold stare.

I threw the brown envelope on the low table. The photos of the person that Pierre wants me to kill scattered around it; some photos even fell on the floor.

"Did you know he was my brother? Is that why you don't want to tell me his name? What is wrong with you?"

My voice lingered in every corner of his office. Harold finally closed the door and walked away. Pieere coldly stared at me, emotionless, and I can even see a hint of disappointment in his eyes. He didn't answer me, but I took that silence as a 'yes'.

"You can talk calmly; I can hear your voice perfectly."

I scoffed. I can’t believe he has the nerve to stay calm given this situation.

"You know exactly why you should kill him, Amanda. He didn't shout nor raised his voice, but the authority of Pierre's voice prevailed, and it made me secretly flinch.

I didn't know why, but at that moment, I suddenly burst into tears. Not because of him, but because of the overflowing anger that I don't know how to express anymore.

"Damn it. God damn it!" I sat on the sofa and just covered my eyes while my tears fell silently.

"If you can't do it, consider yourself out of the kind of life you're currently living. This is a test I wanted you to take. Do it, or leave in peace, Amanda."

I heard him sigh. He stepped closer to me and sat on a couch in front of my seat. He's not speaking; he's just patiently listening to my whips.

I ignored that he was in front of me, and I just cried my heart out. Soon, his shoe notified me that he was walking towards my seat.

“Why are you digging up so deep in my past?” I stated these while still crying. I don’t even know if he understood what I was saying.

I saw the pair of his expensive black shoes in front of me as I bowed to hide my crying face. He gently touched my arm and gently pulled me upright, which I complied.

He wiped my tears gently, as if he's touching a fragile thing. When I looked into his eyes, he looked away. This is not his thing, but I appreciate his effort to comfort me.

"I won't allow you to live in a world like mine bearing a fear that could be used against you someday. If you can't, Amanda, stop living like this. You'll either kill or be killed first."

It’s strange that these words are coming from a Mafia leader who surely killed a dozen people, enough to make him less empathetic. I don’t know why he’s doing this. I understand his point, but for what? For what reason is he trying to help me overcome my greatest fear?

I calmed down and slowly nodded while still crouched. I am aware of everything. I also know my own weaknesses. The man in front of me, who was from bloodshed last night, wiped my tears with his hands that had harmed several people. I could tease him because he looks like he’s not used to comforting a crying person. But strangely, with those dirty hands, I am feeling an unusual comfort. It's odd, but I'd love to start pampering myself with this kind of attention. It was as if my anger was nothing.

I don’t know his reasons, but he is strangely causing me to have confidence and do it. Is this a way to train me and become his accomplice? I don't care if this could lead to nowhere or to me being used. Nevertheless, we're a couple of bastards who're bound to rot in hell anyway.