Sold to the Enemy: The Don Obsession
A kid with blue hair and a nametag that read Tyler looked up from his phone.
His eyes went wide, taking in my face, the scar on my jaw, and the fact that I looked like I had been spat straight out of Hell.
"Can I... help you, sir?" he stammered, looking like he was about to crap his pants.
"I need a phone," I said, my voice low and probably sounding like a threat. "Newest model. Best camera. Maximum storage."
"Sure, sure. We have it in black, silver, and....."