𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇 ⱽᵉʳᵒⁿⁱᶜᵃ ᴸᵒᵈᵍᵉ ³

¹¹. ᴼˡᵈ ᴮᵒⁿᵈˢ ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᴮʳᵉᵃᵏ

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 || 𝘖𝘭𝘥 𝘉𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬

THE SUNLIGHT HAD BARELY BEEN ABLE TO PEAK OVER THE HORIZON BEFORE CHRIS HAD BEEN STIRRED AWAKE. A pounding of curled knuckles against his apartment door made him roll onto his side on the couch. When the knock continued, Chris let out a disgruntled noise. Rolling over standing to his feet on wobbly legs. Rubbing his perfect eye as he walked around the couch to the door.

Again, the knock sounded and further irritated the Jones. "Yeah, I'm coming!" He exclaimed, unlocking the door from the bolt mechanism and standard before swinging it open. Surprised to find Harry Lodge standing on the other side with less-than-impressed looks on their face. Especially when they looked Chris up and down, seeing the boy wearing dirty sweatpants and no shirt. "What do you think I'm gonna wear? A two-piece to bed?" He spat, opening the door wider for the pair to step out.

As they stepped inside, the door to the right of them opened with Malcolm stepping out in his own sweatpants and tank top. But upon seeing the Lodge, he stopped in a pause before sighing and walking past into the kitchen. Harry followed his figure for a second before Chris sat on the arm of the couch, arms crossed firmly over his chest.

"What is it you need from me?" He questioned, looking between the two. Harry pulled out an envelope from the back of his pants and handed it to Chris. The boy looked up at him for a moment before standing and taking it.

"Your brother has been going around questioning the shooting of my brother," Harry stated. "You need to reel him in and put him in his place." The order nearly made Chris giggle in amusement as he opened the envelope to see a stack of cash with a file on a random kid by the name of, Tyler Reece.

"Who the fuck is this?" Chris asked, walking to his kitchen table and laying the pictures out. Grabbing a cigarette and his lighter as Malcolm moved across the apartment to look at the pictures. Grabbing one and snickering in amusement.

"Look's like a fucking child," he said, looking at the two Lodges. "So what? You want us to kill him?"

Harry shook his head at the question. "Tyler is one of Hiram's main chemists that make fizzle rocks. Now, he's going to be working in your warehouse," he said, turning her gaze to Chris, who simply hummed. "He's not under ours or Hiram's command. The kid makes his own income from our dealings. So, don't expect him to comply with everything you order from him." He then pulled out another set of pictures and handed them to Chris. "That is Brooke Greeves. She was under my command back in New York, and now yours."

Chris glanced at the man before looking down at the photos and flipping through them. Brooke was all jokes aside, way too attractive to be in the business the three of them were in. She looked like a model off the cover of Vogue and seemed rather harmless. But from the other photos, she seemed like the perfect interrogator by her using a pair of pliers on a man's fingers. Her long brown hair swept down her back with scars speckled across her tanned forearms. And her eyes were a piercing dark blue.

Although Chris wasn't excepted about welcoming in all these new faces, he knew it would be going towards helping expand his and Hiram's business. Because in the end, he was going to have to trust someone. Better to start now than later.

"Malcolm, take one of the trucks at the warehouse and drive it to where Reece is," Chris said, looking at his right-hand man. "We'll need his equipment, so if you need to, call in some of the boys and get them to help haul it to the warehouse. We'll find a spot for him to set up camp."

Malcolm nodded, taking one last sip of his orange juice before placing the glass down on one of the pictures of Tyler Reece. Moving past the Lodge and exiting the apartment when he slipped his shoes on. Immediately after, the tension in the room became more apparent when Harry settled on the couch. His nose scrunched up in disgust at how his standards weren't met with simple furniture. A simple and small thing Chris hated about the man.

"Second order of business; Elio Grande," Harry announced, looking at Chris. "His family wants retaliation for their two men. And you announcing war against that family hasn't been settling in well back in New York."

"So, you've been in New York trying to deal with Elio's dad?" Chris mused. It explained where the man had been for the past few days. And would explain why there has been a rather lack of activity from Elio's end after Chris blew up his two men. But it only made him further amused by how much Elio had to wait for his daddy's approval to do anything. "Are you going to stop me? They could responsible for the shooting that nearly killed your brother and my daughter."

Harry sighed, leaning back into the couch as he looked up at Chris. "I'm not going to stop you, Chris," he said, the faintest twinkle in his eyes as if an idea popped up in his head. But if Chris knew anything about the man, he had already known what he was going to do before he got here. "I'm going to arm you for it. See, the Grandes wouldn't listen when I told them that you acted in defence. I mean, could you blame them? But I know that you wouldn't act rashly unless for good reason. So, Elio is as much my target as he is yours."

Standing to his feet, Harry stuffed his hands in his slacks. "But I also know that Hermione's been moving in silence since Hiram was shot," he explained, pursing his lips. "Although I wouldn't like to think so, I believe she may have some inkling as to why Hiram was shot and Cassy was placed in the crossfire." Seeing the spark in Chris' eyes, Harry raised a finger. "That is something I deal with on my own."

Inhaling deeply, Chris nodded in acceptance of the order. Even though he didn't like it, he would listen to Harry. For what it was, this was becoming far more family personal than Chris liked to believe. But his daughter was in that shootout. If anyone expected him to sit idly and see whoever was responsible walk freely, they were sadly mistaken.

"A shipment will be coming to the warehouse in a day or two. Till then, make yourself useful," Harry commented, walking towards the door. "Keep your business going and keep having your men doing pickups. I also expect the first bottle of that fine Maple Whiskey Olivia has announced."

Once the apartment door shut, Chris rolled his head and reached into his pocket. Taking a puff off his cigarette and pulled out his phone. Dialling a phone number and placing the phone to his ear to hear the familiar laugh of one of his oldest enemies. "Chris Jones," the man laughed. "I thought you lost my number, brother."

"Not yet," Chris stated, turning to his table and taking a puff off his cigarette. Taking one of Tyler's picture's into his grasp and stares at the dark-skinned boy. He was built like a football player, far from what he thought a chemist could be envisioned as. "I got a job for you, Malachai."