"You heard me. I'm done," Dacatt repeated, stepping fully out of the booth and taking a step away from them. "I'll calculate all the money you've paid me so far and send back whatever's extra, but I'm out."
He didn't wait for a response. He just turned and sluggishly walked off.
Evans stood there, his fingers twitching at his sides as he watched Dacatt disappear into the crowd of the bar. For a long moment, he didn't move, lost for words.
Then, suddenly, his hand slammed against the table, his palm hitting the surface repeatedly in barely contained rage. When he was done, he slowly sank back down onto the seat.
Alfonso shook his head and clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. I don't know whether I should laugh or be angry, honestly."
"I did warn you about this guy. I told you he would end up being another waste of time, didn't I? But no, Evans knows best. And now look at you. You just wasted a shit ton of money on yet another useless hitman."
