LV

Emerald felt as though she had been walking for hours non-stop since she and Jordan began walking down the stairs. She couldn't count how many times she had tripped over rocks and unleveled ground and how Jordan had prevented her from hitting the ground every single time.

Her ankles felt strained and were throbbing in pain but she suppressed every pained groan that threatened to escape her lips; the last thing she wanted was to be a burden to Jordan, since Owen hadn't followed them down the tunnel, although she wondered why, because they needed all the help they could get.

Feeling completely exhausted, she was about to ask for a five minute break when they finally stumbled upon a door. Jordan shone his flashlight on the disequilibrated structure, pulling Emerald behind him protectively before pushing it open gently.

Sneaking in appeared farfetched at this point when the door creaked rather loudly, making Emerald cringe at the disturbing sound. Jordan scanned the room with his phone's flashlight before walking in with Emerald in tow.

They hadn't taken up to ten steps into the room when they suddenly heard a creak followed by a series of slow claps covering the sound of someone's approaching footsteps. Emerald stiffened and Jordan's grip on her hand tightened as he moved his body to completely shield her from where the sounds emanated.

Emerald's entire being appeared to come to an abrupt halt, her blood freezing in her veins, and the only thing she was conscious of was the heavy thumping of her heart in her ears, when a vaguely familiar voice resonated round the room.

“Well, well, well.”

The footsteps stopped in front of them, Jordan noticed, and just as the voice began speaking again, Jordan directed his torch at the figure, a satisfied smirk gracing his lips when he heard a pained hiss.

Just then, the lights came on, illuminating the room and Jordan was quick–witted enough to shield his and Emerald's eyes from the sudden brightness before it could cause any damage to them. A few seconds later, he removed his hand when he was certain her eyes had adjusted to the light.

Emerald's wide eyes conned the now illuminated room to notice that the space appeared to be the basement of a building. She took in the unkempt surrounding before noticing the other people in the room, besides Jordan, Carl and herself.

There were five other people in the room in total — four men and one woman. Two of the men were as burly as Owen, however, Owen would tower over them a few inches.

The third man was tall and skinny, sickeningly skinny and every exposed expanse of skin on his body was covered in tattoos, including his face. Piercings marred both his eyebrows, the corner of his lip and his ears, and he had a large nose ring dangling from his nose, which gave him the appearance of a bull.

The fourth man, however, seemed to be the only slightly normal looking one, with a dirty green beard the length of his chest and a beer belly straining the black shirt he wore beneath a common leather jacket they all shared.

Emerald's gaze trailed towards the only woman in the room, other than her. She was also tall, not as tall as the tatted freak, but surely taller than her. She had a piece of gum in her mouth, one she was chewing loudly.

The woman had half of her face covered in tattoos as well, but the other half was completely inkless and almost spotless save for the long scar that ran from the corner of her lip to below her ear. It appeared as though her mouth had been cut further open to expand it and Emerald could tell from the zigzag lines that the stitch work had been done terribly.

She would've continued to stare if the woman hadn't suddenly faked a lunge threateningly, causing Emerald to jolt and hug Jordan's back tightly. The men burst into guffaws while the woman only regarded her with a scoff and an eye roll.

Hearing a low groan, Emerald's attention was riveted to her father, whose hands were aggressively rubbing his eyes, making them worse unknowingly. Jordan's smirk grew at the clear discomfort he had caused the older man.

Few seconds later, he finally released his eyes with a loud groan, blinking repeatedly before focusing his bloodshot eyes on the two people standing before him. Carl grinned — albeit with evident wicked intent — when his eyes met his daughter's, making the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes more pronounced cracks against his wrinkled skin.

Emerald stood transfixed, scrutinizing the middle-aged man standing in front of her. He looked thin, lean but presumably more muscular than he had been since the last time she saw him. He tried standing straight, but his frame was evidently unbalanced as he appeared to lean his weight on one foot more than the other, plus his aged back had arched slightly.

His skin was dark, unhealthily dark and wrinkly, his nose crooked — an evidence that his face had been pummeled in a few times — and Emerald could see a snake tattoo peeking beneath his jawline.

One of his striking features was his hairless head; Carl Johansson was bald — a characteristic he shared with the other gang members in the room, except the chicle woman, who was sporting a flashy orange mohawk with both sides of her head cleanly shaved.

“Well, if it isn't my dearest daughter. I've missed you so much, sweetheart.” Carl's gravelly voice echoed round the small room. He stared longer at Emerald, a slow grin creeping up on his face as he opened his arms, seemingly asking for a hug. “It's been so long. Won't you give your father a hug, Meraldy?” he teased.

Emerald's frame stiffened visibly at the mention of that nickname, that cursed nickname. It drove fury through her veins and the fear she had felt earlier while dreading meeting him was now gone. Her body shook violently and she felt a strong and warm hand squeeze hers comfortingly, causing her anger to simmer down a notch.

“You have no right,” she breathed out harshly, “to call me your daughter, Carl. Not after everything you did to me,” she snapped, taking a step forward to only have Jordan snake his arm around her waist to keep her in place.

“Aww,” Carl cooed, placing a hand over his chest, “you wound me, Meraldy. I was gone for so long but you wouldn't even welcome me back?” He tilted his head, feigning a hurt expression.

Emerald took a deep calming breath before responding. “Alright then, dear father,” she smiled, showing her teeth. “How did prison treat you? From the looks of it,” she paused, deliberately scanning him from head to toe before she smirked, “you were welcomed greatly in there. Are you perhaps, expecting the same treatment from me?”

Low snickers erupted from the other people in the room and Jordan smirked, softly squeezing Emerald's side to show that he was proud of her retort. However, Carl snarled, shooting a death glare at his colleagues to shut them up before fixing his hard gaze on Emerald, now showing his true form.

“You seem to have forgotten that I have your precious sister in my custody, Meraldy. So, I'd suggest you tame that fucking tongue of yours,” he spat, his expression turning smug when he saw Emerald's face flush with barely restrained anger, but for Armani's safety, she remained quiet.

Not happy with the turn of events, Jordan finally stepped forward, bringing himself into Carl's line of view. He had let Emerald take the reins because he felt that she needed the closure; it was her battle to fight but he would be by her side to support her all the way.

Meeting Jordan's expressionless countenance, Carl jeered. “Look who fucking finally decided to come out of hi—”

“You will not speak to her like that,” Jordan interrupted, his voice low and menacing but his tone was hard and everyone in the room could hear the bloodshed he promised.

Everyone but Carl Johansson, who scoffed at Jordan's words. His bloodshot eyes scanned Jordan's frame from head to toe and then back up again. He sized up the younger man's well built frame and noticing that he had more muscles and height than him, Carl attempted to straighten himself up, puffing out his chest in a weak attempt to show authority.

Jordan almost chuckled at his weakness.

“I see you're now living up to your reputation of being my daughter's boy toy,” Carl taunted again, hoping to get a reaction out of Jordan, who remained absolutely quiet, only staring unblinkingly at the aged man before him.

His silence and stoicism gave him an even more eerie aura, so much so that the other gang members exchanged glances between themselves, wondering how stupider their newest member, Carl, could get after already challenging the most feared Mafia Don in most parts of the world.

“You don't know who I am, do you?” Jordan finally spoke, a bloodcurdling smirk creeping onto his face and almost instinctively, the other gang members in the room stiffened, their postures turning ramrod straight in response.

Carl, still unaffected, rolled his eyes, waving his hand in the air in show of nonchalance. “I had the guys carry out some research on Emerald and you popped up. Jordan Male, Mafia shit, blah blah blah. I was too disinterested to care.” His response was one of pure arrogance — one that made his colleagues inwardly shake their heads in pity.

“Kale.” An unfamiliar voice suddenly muttered, followed by a pop and everyone's attention was drawn to the woman with the flashy orange mohawk on her head.

“What?” Carl frowned, confused.

“Jordan Kale, not Male,” she explained, her dark and intrusive eyes shamelessly ogling Jordan's body as she blew a bubble with her gum, popping it just as her gaze collided with Emerald's hard ones. She grinned at Emerald's glare, her teeth peeking through the loosely stitched skin of her cheek; she looked nothing short of a Cheshire cat with its wide mouth.

“Yeah whatever,” Carl repeated insouciantly and Jordan could only smirk at his show of arrogance, mocking his stupidity.

“Your arrogance will only lead to your downfall, Johansson and I,” he emphasized, “will be the one to issue it. However,” he rushed on, deliberately interrupting Carl who had opened his mouth to speak.

“It makes me wonder,” he tilted his head and a mocking thoughtful expression crossed his features, “do you really have Armani in your custody or is it all just a sham to lure us in? Because since we arrived here, all you've done is go on and on, polluting the air with your stinky mouth.”

Everything suddenly came to a halt, a heavy silence settling in the room at Jordan's blunt and unfiltered jab. The silence dwelled for a few seconds more, everyone staring wide-eyed at the man that had spoken, before loud bellows suddenly filled the space, replacing the silence.

Jordan's sudden remark of derision against Carl had caught everyone off guard, including Emerald who also couldn't keep her laughters at bay as she squished her face against Jordan's side while he held her to him, his watchful eyes trained on the fuming older man before him, their object of derision.

“Enough!” Carl suddenly burst out, his frame distinctly shaking as the anger pulsed through his veins. He directed his hard, murderous glare at Jordan, pointing his index finger in his direction. “I will not stand here and allow you to mock me, especially when I have leverage over you!”

He yelled, the veins in his head throbbing against his temple. Jordan watched on as Carl's furious gaze shifted from him to Emerald, promising nothing but pernicious intent.

“If I can't hurt Emerald, well I have her sister as collateral damage. I'm sure that'll be enough destruction to the family.” His lips were pulled up in a sneer as he stared unwaveringly at his daughter before he barked out an order. “'Naconda! Bring me the girl!”

When Emerald saw one of the two burly men move from her peripheral vision towards the wooden stairs behind her father, her grip on Jordan's arm tightened and in response, he held her tighter as well.

Although his face remained inexpressive, he smirked internally. Carl was as predictable as the lot he had had to deal with; arrogant, temperamental and just plain stupid, Jordan was certain that all he needed to do was aggravate him enough to bring Armani out of where he had put her, and then, his plans could finally be set in motion.

“It would do you well to keep a firm hold on the leash around your boy toy here, Meraldy, if you ever want to see your dear sister ever again,” he glowered and Emerald glared right back, refusing to back down.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, loud thuds were heard approaching the basement again and faint moans akin to sounds of struggling could be heard. The burly man finally walked down the stairs, coming into Emerald's and Jordan's view, and the two could see a struggling Armani being pulled along with him.

“Armi!” Emerald called out and just then, Armani's struggles came to a halt as she took in the people in the room. Her eyes widened at the sight of two familiar persons and she took a step forward towards them only to be pulled back harshly by the man still holding her.

“Hmm!” She called out in response but her words were muffled by the handkerchief covering her mouth.

“Armi, are you okay?” Emerald asked worriedly, her eyes scrutinizing every visible bit of her sister's figure. She appeared to be in good condition, other than the stains on her clothes, her dishevelled frame and the bruise forming around her cheek and busted lip.

“You're hurt,” Emerald muttered, her glistening eyes roving over her sister's frame. She noticed Armani shaking her head as muffled noises escaped her again. Offering her a small smile, Emerald shifted her gaze to Carl, her eyes hardening as steel as she did.

“What did you do to her?” she let out through gritted teeth, green orbs glaring her father down when a smirk stretched across his lips.

“Oh, her?” he snickered, roughly pulling Armani to him and keeping his arm around her shoulder, gluing her to his side as she thrashed with disapproval. “We just took extra precaution in case she attempted to escape when we ‘borrowed’ her.” He made an air quotes gesture, still smirking sadistically.

Emerald's eyes drifted from him to Armani, laced with worry at how uncomfortable she looked while struggling in Carl's grasp, before moving back to him, turning twice as hard. “Let go of her, Carl!” she took a step forward instinctively and Jordan had to tighten his hold on her waist to draw her very reluctant form back to him.

Carl shook his head slowly, tutting in mockery as he regarded his daughter. “Do you think you can just order me around now because I decided to have a little chat with you?” His smirk faded leisurely, replaced by a fierce look in his eyes.

He was serious now.

“You are in my territory, now. You will abide by my law. You will do as I say when I say it or else. . .” To buttress his threat, his arm around Armani's shoulders tightened even more until she let out a suppressed sound of pain.

Carl loosened his grip, content with the frantic look of worry clouding his daughter's eyes as she stared at her sister. “I know you're smart, dear daughter. You know what that means; I call the shots here.”

Silence soon ensued and a giddy excitement could be clearly seen in Carl's twinkling orbs as he smiled, enjoying Emerald's helpless look, but all too soon, his excitement was brought to a complete turnaround when Jordan spoke.

“Really? You call the shots?” his voice thundered around the room, his tone heavy with mockery. Confused and, once again, aggravated, Carl met his gaze, shivers running down his aged spine at the sight of the devilish grin on Jordan's face.

Carl opened his mouth to speak but before he could utter a word, three out of five guns were immediately pointed at him by his fellow gang members. He slowly and cautiously averted his gaze from Jordan, running his eyes along the people that had their guns directed at him — all of his colleagues except the overly tall and tatted guy and ’Naconda, the burly man that had brought Armani to the basement and was currently standing beside him.

Carl blinked, the shock evident on his slightly pale face as his eyes met with those of the people he had considered friends, people who were now currently fighting against him.

“Look how the tables have turned, Johansson.” Jordan called out, drawing the pale and sweaty older man's attention to his smug face. “I did tell you earlier that your arrogance would be your downfall, didn't I? You should never underestimate me, you should never underestimate my Gem and you should never underestimate a man who would do anything just to keep his family safe.

You should have been very meticulous about your research, Carl, perhaps then you would have discovered a very important detail.” His smug expression slipped off and was quickly replaced by a gaze so frigid, it sent a chill up and down Carl's spine repeatedly.

“The people you chose to mess with, are my family now and no one messes with J.K's beloved and gets away with it,” he spat, his voice edged with ardent contempt as his eyes narrowed just before he yelled an order. “Now!”

Immediately, the barely surviving entrance door behind them was flung off its hinges as several black suited men came rushing into the room, the last of them being the familiar blue eyed, black man — Owen Skull. Owen walked up to Emerald's other side, he and Jordan exchanging a nod while Emerald passed him a grateful smile, one he gave a slight bow to.

Everyone — Jordan's men and the other gang members — then turned their attention to Carl, ’Naconda and the tall, tatted guy. Carl's eyes remained wide and fearful when he saw how hopelessly outnumbered they were. His gaze was then trained on his three other colleagues, seemingly pleading with them.

Jordan spoke up, noticing that. “These three aren't as stupid as you and the other two, Johansson. All I had to do was let them know who they were up against and snap!” he snapped his two fingers sharply, eliciting a jolt from Carl. “They turned against you so easily,” he grinned, but immediately after, his expression turned stone cold again.

“Enough chitchat. I'm done playing here.” Jordan gave a slight nod and as Owen raised his gun in the air to shoot, in one quick movement — one inspired by a rush of adrenaline due to the fear of losing his life — Carl whipped out his gun and held it against Armani's temple, bringing everyone to a halt.

“Armi!” Emerald yelled out in panic as her sister's wide and fearful eyes stayed glued to hers. “Don't you dare hurt her!” She shouted again, her hands clenched into fists beside her.

“Make even the slightest movement and I won't hesitate to bury a bullet in her brain,” Carl threatened, pressing the muzzle of the gun harder against her temple, eliciting a faint cry from Armani.

“Armi,” Emerald whispered, never averting her eyes from her sister's. Jordan's eyes narrowed, a deadly aura emanating from him as he stared unblinkingly at Carl, not failing to notice how the older man's hand trembled around the gun in palpable terror.

Silence stretched as long moments passed with everyone remaining immobile, waiting for a word or signal from Jordan when he spoke all of a sudden, his sonorous voice booming with command, momentarily jolting Carl.

“Lower your weapons,” he had commanded, surprising Carl, but Jordan's men, who were well aware of their boss's esoteric tactics, could only smirk in mockery of Emerald's father's smug, victorious look.

As they all crouched down to set their guns on the ground, some of the men glanced at Owen who discreetly raised two of his fingers as they bent lower to the ground, and as soon as their guns were about to touch the floor, he snapped both fingers down, forming a fist — a signal so familiar to them — and quickly, they moved into action.

The men quickly swung their guns up in the air, their synchronous act a fatal distraction to the enemy, and before Carl could register anything, a dagger was already embedded in his right side, right below his chest while he held Armani to his left side.

He staggered from the impact, a sharp pain shooting through his chest and entire torso. Hissing in agony, he lifted his eyes from the view of the hilt sticking out of his body and met Jordan's gaze.

The man was crouching slightly, still in the position from which he had launched the dagger and his dark eyes were trained on Carl, a bloodcurdling smirk exposing some of his pearly whites. At that moment, all Carl Johansson could comprehend was that he was staring right into the eyes of the devil himself.

Overwhelmed by the terror–inspired, spine–chilling tremors raking through him, Carl's tight grip on Armani finally loosened and when she made a sudden lunge forward, seizing the opportunity to escape his hold completely, Jordan saw an opening and immediately drew another dagger, preparing to throw it and finally end it all at once, but just as he flung the weapon, Carl grabbed hold of Armani's hair and pulled her back to him.

“Armani!” Emerald screamed at the top of her voice, feeling her heart stop in her chest when she noticed the dagger heading towards her sister, but before it could make contact, Carl quickly pulled a spectating ’Naconda to act as a shield.

Not expecting the sudden movement, the burly man stumbled forward quite easily and before he could make sense of anything, the weapon had already sunk itself into the space between his wide eyes, bringing an instant death to the victim.

Emerald's rigid body finally slackened in relief when she saw that although Armani was still in her father's hold, she was still alive, however, that relief was shortlived when Carl began dragging Armani towards the stairs, his movements frantic as he and the tall, tatted guy began shooting maddeningly at Jordan's men, hoping to cover and make their escape, but unfortunately for the tatted guy, he was only able to cover for Carl before he was gunned down after managing to hit two of his fellow gang members.

“Cal, I'm going after Armi!” Emerald yelled out, freeing herself from in-between the two men flanking her; she was tired of staying still and doing nothing to help.

“No, Gem! Wait—” Jordan tried to stop her but Emerald had already raced towards the broken wooden stairs, ducking her head as she made her way up. “Mera!” Jordan shouted after her, preparing to follow, but he had taken no more than three steps when he suddenly felt someone collide with him, succeeding in bringing him down to the ground as the sound of gunshots tore through the air at that moment.

Groaning gruffly, Jordan sat up on the floor, looking to his side to see who had shoved him; it was Owen.

“Boss, are you alright?” He asked, his piercing blue eyes scanning Jordan's frame and disregarding the cut on the side of his own cheek that gave way to trails of blood leaking down his face.

Jordan hummed in response. “I am fine,” his eyes sharpened. “Who pulled the trigger?”

“I did.”