21: Power 3

I rapped on the door continuously that had Monet Morales’ name plaque on it. The job I was sent to do was different from the one I had in mind.

There was no way in my right senses that I believed the words that came out of North's mouth and according to common sense, the timeline of his story didn't match up.

After a moment later, the door finally swung open as a short ginger haired girl stood before me, an upset look on her face. North definitely has a type.

“What do you want, Africa?” Her tone was mean and scary and I am not even African. I am Italian with Hebrew and African origin.

I dug into my tote bag and brought out a blue file. “I have a package for Monet Morales, that's you I think.”

She dragged the file from me. “Yeah, that's me.” She opened the file, only to find a white paper with three words written on it and a hundred dollar bill. “It ends tonight? What does that even mean?”

I shrugged. “I don't know. I was asked to deliver it to you.”

“By who?” she demanded, throwing th