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45

45.

Ghost arrived at the hideout drenched in thoughts. The men in the hallway were in silent chatters and were giving him weird stares. He fucking expected this after his mess last night.

He walked into one of the rooms and was hit by the foul stench of blunts and booze.

It was half a study and half a storeroom for guns and other weapons. But it was messy with shit littered in all directions. He could make out a few stubs between the mess.

Don Carianno was standing at the window, puffing hard on the blunt between his fingers. He seemed to have noticed the extra presence but he didn't bother to turn around.

"Can we talk?" Ghost broke the silence. "Please?"

"I asked you to rest, son. What are you doing here?" Don Carianno was all shades of grumpy.

"I wanna fix the mess I caused yesterday." Ghost said. He sounded desperate. Way too desperate.

Don Carianno turned swiftly. "What's up with that voice? Don't tell me you're fucking depressed."

"No. I'm not. I'm just sad about what happened
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