Chapter 2: Bones and Whispers
The storm had passed, but the sky remained dull and heavy, like a bruise that refused to fade. The city held its breath.
Somewhere in the underbelly of Reign territory, in a soundproof basement beneath a butcher shop, the stench of sweat and iron mixed with the low hum of fluorescent lights.
Jordan Reign stood in the center of the room, sleeves rolled up, blood staining the edges of her gloves. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, stared down at the trembling man strapped to the steel chair before her.
He was shirtless, ribs jutting out, arms bound tight. Bruises bloomed like flowers across his chest. One eye was swollen shut. Blood dripped from his nose, lip, and somewhere near his scalp. His breathing was shallow.
"You've been awfully quiet," Jordan said, her voice soft. Too soft.
She crouched in front of him, resting her arms on her knees like they were old friends catching up.
"I ask you once," she continued. "And only once. Who paid you to leak my route last week?"
The man opened his good eye and whispered, "You wouldn't believe me."
Jordan gave a slow smile. "Try me."
He hesitated. And that was the wrong move.
Before he could even blink, her fist slammed into his jaw—quick, brutal. The chair rattled. He cried out, spitting blood.
Jordan stood up, took a breath, and walked over to a metal table filled with toys—pliers, wires, scalpels, a blowtorch. She reached for the pliers first.
"You see," she said conversationally, "I'm not just mad because you sold me out. I'm mad because you were stupid about it."
Click. Click. The pliers snapped open and shut in her hand as she walked back to him.
"You didn't even try to hide it. Do you think I don't track my own men's calls? Texts? Footsteps?"
"Please," he whimpered.
"You wore a mic," she added, eyes narrowing. "In my club."
She grabbed his hand and held up his pinky.
"No," he begged, struggling. "Please—"
Snap.
The bone cracked like a twig. He screamed.
Jordan didn't flinch. "You know what hurts more than betrayal?"
He sobbed, head drooping.
She lifted his chin with the tip of the pliers. "Disrespect."
Another snap. Another scream.
She dropped the bloody pliers to the floor and leaned close, whispering in his ear. "Next time I ask, you answer. Unless you want me to move on to more important fingers."
He nodded weakly, eyes full of tears.
"Who paid you?"
"…a man," he whispered. "Clean suit. No name. Said he was from the North."
Jordan's expression darkened.
"The Vultures?"
He nodded. "They're trying to recruit within… said the Reign gang was crumbling. That you'd be gone soon. That the Elders… already planned it."
Jordan stepped back, fists clenched. Her pulse thrummed in her ears.
So the rumors were true. The Elders weren't just watching—they were plotting.
She took a deep breath, collecting herself. "Thank you," she said flatly.
Then shot him in the leg.
He screamed again.
"That was for lying," she said coldly. "If the Elders had plans, I'd know."
She turned and walked toward the table again.
That's when the door opened.
Marcus.
Again.
He looked slightly paler this time.
"What now?" Jordan snapped, wiping blood from her gloves with a cloth.
"They sent another message," Marcus said. "This time… it wasn't a request."
Jordan's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
He held out a black envelope with the Elders' seal burned into the wax.
Jordan didn't move.
"They said if you don't attend tonight's meeting…" Marcus swallowed, "...they'll strip your seat as boss. Permanently."
Silence.
Only the tortured man's whimpers filled the room.
Jordan stared at the envelope. Then laughed.
A short, bitter sound.
"They think they can strip me?" she muttered.
She walked to the wall, yanked her knife from a wooden post, and shoved it into the table with a thud.
"I bleed for this gang," she growled. "I've buried rats, traitors, enemies. I've made Reign the strongest name on these streets."
Her voice dropped.
"And they want to play politics."
Marcus stood still, watching.
Jordan slowly peeled off her gloves, tossed them aside, and walked past him toward the stairs.
"Fine," she said at last. "I'll meet them."
Marcus raised his brows.
"But not for peace," she added with a cruel smile. "If they want war, I'll give them a goddamn bloodbath."
END OF CHAPTER 2