III

The rhythmic sound reverberated round the eerily silent office as a knock came through the door. That was the only sound in the room, other than the small pendulum model on his desk which swung in the air, hitting the others and causing the last bob to swing in the air before again hitting the mediators, the cycle repeating itself.

The lone figure sat behind the huge black desk in his signature outfit; clad in black, excluding the white T–shirt underneath his tie as his eyes remained glued to the picture sitting idly on his desk.

His face was shrouded in the darkness hovering around the office, leaving his chocolate brown eyes to glint devilishly in the blackness. His hands were placed together as his fingers formed a mini hill, his stance completely rigid as he kept his eyes trained on the picture.

The sound came again as the person on the other side awaited the order to come in but was only met with the silence.

“I'm coming in, sir.” The voice came before the door opened, revealing Skull, the huge and muscular black man with the shades and the earpods. He was also clad in black, making the white T–shirt stand out.

“Has everything been cleaned up?” His deep, apathetic voice asked after what felt like hours of silence, his eyes still not leaving the picture.

“Yes sir. There isn't a single trace left of the Bear clan.” Skull supplied as his eyes trailed to the picture lying before his boss. His jaw clenched and he immediately removed his eyes from the sight as he took notice of the moving pendulum and the almost empty bottle of whiskey and the glass with little content which sat beside it.

Skull was aware that Jordan only made use of the pendulum whenever he wanted to think, because even sometimes, the silence in his life was deafening. 

The picture was of the former Mafia leader of the U.S. district, the Flyre clan, a.k.a Raymond Flyre a.k.a Jordan's father. The Flyre clan was no longer in existence. It was supposed to be a legacy Jordan would carry on but with his own hands, he had destroyed everything his father had used his blood, sweat and money to build and he had brought the J.K. empire up from scratch. An empire that was now the most unbeatable and indomitable Mafia gang of all time.

In the picture, Raymond was in a navy blue suit with a black shirt peeking underneath it. He had no tie on and an espiègle smirk played on his lips. Through the picture, you could see the evil glint in his eyes and the mere sight of this man made Jordan's entire body shake in uncontrollable anger.

Sensing the pestilent change in the atmosphere, Skull quietly turned around and left the office, the door shutting with a little click.

Jordan lifted his glass and without taking his eyes off the picture, his eyes boring into the familiar chocolate brown eyes of his father, he brought it to his lips and gulped it down.

As he brought it back onto the desk, a certain memory flashed through his mind and in an instant, the volcanic energy surged right through his veins and the hand that held the glass began to shake vehemently.

Next thing, there was a shatter as he squeezed the glass in his left hand until it broke into a million pieces, the shards of glass cutting deep into his palm. He continued to hold his hand in a fist, not caring about the pain that shot right up his arm.

He kept his hand in a tight fist, making the shards embed themselves into his flesh. He was trying to numb his mental and emotional pain by inflicting physical pain upon himself.

He was trying to numb the throbbing ache in his chest, the permanent hole in his heart that nothing—neither alcohol nor women nor viciously taking the lives of his enemies—had been able to fill. Those things only had the tendency to make him forget the pain for that moment but they never made it go away.

And as he watched the red pigment, his own blood drip onto his father's picture, he couldn't ignore the incessant pounding in his head nor the numbing ache in his chest.

His hatred for the man before him was immeasurable, even higher than the likes of Mount Everest.

•  •  •

“You wanted to see me?” Carol spoke impassively as she stared at her brother, who was seated before her.

He had called her over after his little episode earlier. He needed something or rather, someone to take his mind off his past and he could've resorted to drinking or just picking up flings as usual but he wanted to reconcile with his sister and he was really worried about her.

He continued to stare at her, taking in her appearance. She looked good, better than the last time he had seen her, which was about a week before. Even though she currently had an impassive face on, she looked happier and he was relieved that he wouldn't have to kill anyone today.

She raised an eyebrow, questioning his stare and he cleared his throat before bringing his eyes back into focus.

“I did. How have you been, Carol?” He asked as he placed his hands on the desk.

She straightened up and her eyes immediately darted towards his bandaged left hand that laid on the table. Her eyebrows furrowed deeply at the sight. She kept her eyes on the bandaged hand as different thoughts—to what might have happened to him—rushed through her mind.

Was he fighting for her again?

His eyes followed her gaze and seeing that she was looking intently at his injured hand, he tucked both of his hands under the desk, making her look up at him.

Her eyes bore holes into his own as she stared him down before replying with the same blank stare and voice.

“Good.”

He nodded. “Has the bast—” he started, making her frown and glare at him at his attempted choice of words. 

He cleared his throat before beginning again. “I mean has he been treating you well?”

“Yes.” She once again gave him a one word reply. She knew he was really worried about her and that her responses would sooner or later rile him up but she was angry at him and she would show him that. She was waiting for him to crack and she knew that in no time she would get her wish.

She inwardly smiled as she saw him run his hands down his face. He was starting to crack. Her eyes followed the bandaged hand again and they narrowed in question. He quickly pulled his hands away and placed them back on his lap. He let out a deep sigh as he looked at her.

“You know you can always tell me if something is wrong, right?” He asked again.

“Hmm. . .” She nodded once in reply.

“Are you sure he's been treating you well? You can open up to me, you know? I could have a word with him if you want.” He prodded.

“I’m sure.” She was getting frustrated with his continuous questions. This was the problem she had with him. He would only worry about her and completely neglect his own welfare. He would want to know everything about her, notice even the slightest change. He would ask a million questions about the tiniest zit on her face, would ask why she walked funny whenever she wasn't comfortable in the heels she wore and so many more.

She knew it was because he loved and cared deeply about her but his overprotectiveness was becoming unbearable and he needed to stop. He currently had an injured hand and still he had called her to know about her welfare. He was too selfless for his own safety and that worried her deeply.

Besides, Jordan and Leonardo, her husband, having a word? If you wanted the world to come to an end, then that would be the perfect thing to do—put them both in a room for a few minutes and surely world war III was an imminent consequence.

“What abou—”

“If you had called me over to ask me a series of examination questions, then I'm sorry to burst your bubble but I have more important things to do than to sit here and answer them.” She interrupted and slight guilt sprung up in her chest when she saw him flinch at her harsh words but she couldn't help it. She needed her point to be passed across to him immaculately, even if it meant suppressing whatever guilt or regret she felt. It was for his own good.

“Carol, I'm really trying here. Do you have to be so difficult?” He muttered, clearly exasperated. He had finally bitten the bait.

“Oh! I'm being difficult? I am? Wow, I didn't know that. Thanks for stating the obvious. I wonder who I inherited it from.” She deadpanned.

He rolled his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. “Is this about that therapy talk we had? Is that why you've been ignoring me?”

She shrugged and crossed her arms and legs before leaning back into the chair, letting her eyes drill holes into his.

“Carol, I've told you. I don't need this counselling thing you want me to go for. I'm perfectly fine. You can't assume that the way you handle things is the same way I do mine. Just because you needed to visit a therapist, because you needed someone to talk to, to pour it all out to, doesn't mean I need to do the same. 

I'm a man, Carol. I should be able to sort out my own problems without having to be counselled about it. You know me, sis. I've been in charge of things for years now. I can handle it.” He narrated.

“You see that's the problem I have with you. You're always ‘taking charge’ of things. You're always putting me first before yourself. I really appreciate it but it sickens me!” She exploded in frustration. He needed to see beyond his own perspective.

“Carol, I'm your older brother. It's my job to do that. Besides, I promised her I wouldn't let anything happen to you.” He tried to make her understand.

“I'm no longer a kid, Jordan. I'm not that little girl who used to hide in a corner while you took charge of the raging storm before us. I'm not that girl you used to carry on your shoulders just to jump over a hurdle. I'm not the girl that used to be bullied at school, that used to be looked at like a freak and then you'd have to leave your friends to play with me, even when they insulted and mocked you.

I'm a grown woman, Jordan. I know very well my right from wrong. I know what I want and what's best for me. I can take perfect care of myself. It's time you let me take charge of my life.” She was on her feet now, flailing her arms, trying to make her point known to him. 

He only stared at her, impassive. The only movement that was made was the bobbing of his Adam's apple.  

“It's high time you stopped feeling guilty, Jordan. It's all in the past now. Leave it all alone. That's what it all is—the past.” She said softly as she looked him in the eyes.

“I promised her, Carol.” He reiterated, his face holding no emotion. 

She let out a harsh breath as she balled her fists. She hated it whenever she couldn't read his expression. He was pushing her out again. He was reassembling his walls, making them even stronger and more effective but she wouldn't let him. She would prove to him that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

“I’m a married woman, Jordan. Leave it to Leonardo. It's mine and his responsibility now.” Her words came out sharp and brusque as her jaw clenched and unclenched.

Immediately, his eyes narrowed dangerously and his stance became tense. Both his hands clenched into fists, making his left bandaged palm sting painfully. His jaw clenched ominously as his eyes warned her to repeat what she had just said.

“What are you saying, Carol?” He asked with an edge to his voice as he tried to keep his anger at bay. 

She noticed his rigid figure and how his eyes dared her to reiterate but she wouldn't let him scare her. In return, she held her chin high and replied,

“You heard what I said. Leonardo and I will handle our own lives from now on. We do not need someone to keep watch over us anymore like a guardian ang—”

“I never said I was protecting Fernandez. I don't care about his well-being. He can handle himself and if what you're implying is that I relinquish my most prioritized responsibility of protecting you to Fernandez, then don't even think about it. 

There's no way I would put something as priceless as your life in the hands of that scum. It's a dream that can never come true. If that's what you're trying to bargain with me, you should just give up. This isn't up for debate.” He concluded as he gauged her reaction.

She seethed. She was livid at how easily and quickly he wanted to dismiss the topic. She could feel the anger pulsing through her veins.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?!” She shouted.

“Lang—”.

“He’s my husband, Jordan. No matter what differences you both have, you would respect him. Leonardo is changing, Jordan. You can't blame him for anything in this matter. We were both forced into this marriage and we're trying to make it work!

Leo has been treating me well these past few days. He has been there for me everytime I needed him. He's making an effort, Jordan and I really appreciate that he's trying to make things work out between us, so do not criticise him without getting to know him first!” She chastised, pointing her index finger in his face.

“Besides, this is my life, Jordan! Mine! I should have a say in the happenings in my own life, don't you think? I just want to relieve you of all the burdens you bear on your shoulders. I worry about you a lot, J.” Tears welled up in her eyes as she felt her anger slowly dissipate.

“You have no idea how hard it is for me to go to bed at night thinking if maybe, just maybe you could be in grave danger trying to fight for me, trying to protect me while I lay in bed, oblivious to my surroundings. It kills me, J.” She sniffled, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she couldn't contain them.

Jordan's face softened as he took in his sister's concerned face. He couldn't begin to imagine how worried she must have been of him. He carefully stood up and walked to her, pulling her into his arms.

She buried her face in his chest and continued sniffling, trying to push back her tears.

“I’m sorry, J. It's just that I can't help but feel like a burden. If anything were to happen to you because of me, I would kill myself. I want to help in whatever possible way I can, J and this seems like the only way to help. I know we didn't have the best childhood and I know very well how traumatising it can get. I mean, it almost drove me crazy but I was able to recuperate and it's all because I opened up to someone.

I just want you to give it a try, that's all. It would put me at ease to know that at least, I've helped in some way.” He remained quiet as he considered her words. 

The last thing he wanted was for his sister to be hurt. If someone were to dare hurt a strand of hair on her, he would see to it that the person doesn't see the daylight of the next day and he didn't want to be the one to hurt her. He made a promise already and he swore on his life to keep her safe and happy at all times. 

She lifted her head to look into his eyes. Her tear–stricken face and bloodshot eyes stared at him pleadingly.

“Please?” She whispered, successfully destroying his resolve.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. He couldn't say no to her big blue eyes.

“Fine. I'll give it a shot and regarding the ‘protecting you’ part. I would only ease the security around you and reduce your guards, nothing else. That's all you can get out of me.”

She pouted and pushed against his chest. “Fine. At least it's something.” She gave him a huge smile as he kissed her forehead and walked back to his seat, pulling her along.

They sat back in their chairs, the gloomy mood already lifted. 

“Now tell me, how have you really been?” He asked curiously and he was happy when he saw the joyful glint in her eyes.

Her lips stretched into a grin as she began telling him about her week and he was relieved that at least, Fernandez would live to see another week if he continued to make his sister happy. 

He continued to stare at her, feeding off of each letter of her narration as he observed her. His sister had fallen hard in love with Leonardo and as much as he was happy that she finally found love, he could only hope that it lasted. 

Between the both of them, one of them deserved happiness, freedom, peace and love. And that person could never be him.

•  •  •  •  •