~4~

~Cassian Moretti~

"Shut up!" The beast in me snarls and I land a punch in a man's jaw, blood seeping down the side of his mouth. "I haven't even cut the second finger."

My victim whimpers. His lips tremble. Words fail him. "Boss, I swear on my mother, I didn't fail you. I tried my best. I swear." He murmurs.

I play with the edge of my knife, "hate me a chatterbox. Bring out your tongue." My voice echoes in the silent room. The door and window are soundproof, and God knows how many screams they've engulfed. There's only a lightbulb in the room, and it's hanging above my victim's head.

His eyes beg me. He screams in silence. Good dog. He knows better than to defy me again, or I'd do worse. I'm only toying with him for now.

Then, the door opens. From the corners of my eyes, I throw the knife, hitting the wall next to Nyx.

"I am not to be disturbed when I'm busy."

Her voice is stern. Furious? "I'm aware. But your errands girl is here."

My eyes light up, totally ignoring the crying man behind me. "And she bears news?"

"Apparently. I hope not though." My face falls as I proceed towards Nyx, feigning hurt. Nyx rolls her eyes as she walks out and I follow behind her.

"You— be a good boy and wait for me."

Shutting the door behind me, I collect a handkerchief to clean the blood in my hands. "Where is she?"

"In your office. You're not going to see her this way, are you?" She questions causing me to bend my face. "You have a civilian in your office, and you have blood on you. She'll freak out."

"It's just blood." Well, walking around with blood is a common thing here.

"Oh? And what's that? flesh?" She points at the skin on my belt.

"I was enjoying the torture." I whine when Nyx doesn't share my jocularity.

"Fine, I'll change." Nyx is lucky to be my favourite. Others tremble before me but not her, and that's why she's my handler.

Within minutes, I go to change into ash polo shirt and shorts, one darker than the other, and head to my office room. I step inside to see Nyx on the sandstone table, playing with the ends of her braids. Then, my gaze shifts to the woman on one of the many couches.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Moretti. Thank you for inviting me."

I go straight to the point. "I hear you have news, uh..."

She stutters, hastening to her feet. "Abigail, sir."

"Of course."

I walk away to get two cups of coffee. On my way back, I pass one to Abigail. She fidgets as she collects it which leaves me intrigued. Until my eyes shift to Nyx and I groan.

"You're intimidating the lady, Nyx."

Again, Nyx rolls her eyes. She won't budge nor leave the space for us. "Please, ignore her. Now, what do you have for me?"

Abigail nods affirmatively before her response. "I'm close to finishing my assignment, sir. She's agreed to the deal, sir. I just want to know when you'd want me to bring her to the club."

I almost choke on my coffee but my shock fades quickly like it never happened. Damn. I can't believe a woman is shaking my core.

"Pardon me. Why would she agree? She's been dismissing the idea for two months now, hasn't she?"

"Claire is very strong-willed and high-spirited," Abigail rests the cup against her thighs. Her grip is harder. "But things are getting worse for her. Plus, I think she came here for something more." She suddenly snaps out of it. "Oh, forgive me. I'm sorry."

"Continue."

She drawls. "I think Claire came to LA for a new story, one involving a comeback."

"Comeback?"

"Yes, to win before her enemies." Abigail's interpretation makes me brush my chinstrap.

"I'm curious. She dismisses every funds I tell you to give her but wishes to accept the chatroom's offer?" My eyes burn into the distance. Well, either way, I'm winning this game.

"Bad circumstances change people. We can only endure to a point." Abigail chimes in.

I stand up out of the blue. "Bring her to the club next Friday."

"Oh, all right boss." Abigail shoots up to leave. Closing the door behind her, Nyx approaches me. I stare through the glassy windows at the other skyscrapers and tiny busy road.

"I'm baffled. Why are you playing this game? Why do you watch this Claire?"

"Because my imagination is no more delusional — watching her makes my blood warm." I didn't think twice before I respond. I'm careless but something about her just interests me.

"You could have sent me or any of your people to do this job, but you're sending civilians?"

I turn to face Nyx. "You're an assassin. You don't have feelings. That's why you work for me."

"You need to be done with this lady. She's distracting you. I can't protect you if you're not in your right mind. And you are not."

I scoff, "well, I'll get back to what I was doing." I dismiss the conversation. "And since you're so pissed, you may kill this Abigail lady once she's done with her assignment. I won't be needing her anymore."

Gaiting out, I relive Nyx's words. She's right. I'm not focused. Reason why I must meet Claire again. Reason why I'm playing this game. I want to know: what is she to me?

"You owe me, Peach," I mutter as my fist brawls.

~Claire Valli~

~The following week~

I check the mirror for the umpteenth time. I'm in my best dress — deep wine-red satin, off shoulder, a modest slit that teased just one thigh. Hugs like a second skin — paired with simple gold heels and thin cross necklace.

Yet, it feels off.

'Will they laugh at me?'

'Think I'm cheap?'

'I promised myself to gain powerful and influence, to win, didn't I?'

But what choice do I have? Different thoughts stream my mind. Just then, a message drops in: Abigail is complaining that I'm getting late.

Hurriedly, I leave for the club. My chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes with gold flecks will finish the charm. The street is bubbling with people in line to enter the club.

Wow. This place is magnificent.

A familiar voice approaches out of nowhere. "Oh, my...I was getting worried. Is it trouble locating this place?"

My eyes are still big. "It's a five-star kinda club. Undoubtedly the largest club I've ever seen in my entire life. I would have dressed better. You should have told me..." I'm breathless and swallow a large lump.

"Yo, relax girl." Abigail snickers. "Get used to it. And you look perfect. Damn, you should go out more."

I fake a cry. "You sure?"

"Hey, listen to me. You need to use your feminine wits. The men in there are the pillars of this city. High-status. Powerful. Basically, gods. They'll probably belittle you but wear your charm. Seduce them with your voice. And you'll be paid massively."

"That doesn't sound easy."

"I got you this chance. Don't flop it." She glances away for a moment. "Oh, come on. It's time."

I step back and Abigail frowns. "Remember what happened last week? You don't even know who did it. You can't continue to live in that place, relying on small earnings. Trust me, I've had my share and I know how dirty these things get, so focus on the bag."

She doesn't give me any time to think before she pulls me inside. My eyes grow even bigger; a crystal chandelier larger than my room sways above the crowd. Rich men in custom suits — you can tell by their laugh. And women in red bottom heels, sharp enough to stab.

Abigail directs me into a confined space. There's a glass slide to block me from seeing who's on the other side and a warm light to the side wall. I occupy the footstool.

What am I supposed to do? Is there a guide? Do I dance or something? Oh, my God. This isn't redemption. I shouldn't have come here.

Seconds turn into minutes. Just silence. Then, I come close to the glass. "Um, excuse me." My voice is so tiny. "Is someone there?"

"Finally," comes a thick masculine voice, sending chills down my bones. "I've been waiting for you, Peach."