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chapter fifty-three
hello titty
・❥・
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JORDANNA LAID ON the couch in the study, squinted eyes fixated on Klaus as he paced up and down the floor ⸻ sure enough to leave a Klaus-sized dent in the wood.
She shook her head in dismissal, lifted a long leg into the air, and twirled her ankle, cracking the bone. God, was she bored. You'd think after the love of your life says yes to a marriage proposal he'd want to spend his time leaving a Klaus-sized dent in her.
But no, Klaus, to no one's surprise, was a man on a mission. He was paranoid, and truth be told, so was Jordanna. Everyone knew how many enemies Klaus Mikaelson had made over the years ⸻ the number was shocking, and it was no less of a surprise to only assume that they would seek vengeance, after all, they were no longer sired to him, they could finally find solace in the demise of Klaus.
Only Jordanna was worried, not particularly over the fact that, most likely, his enemies would be coming after him ⸻ more over the fact that Klaus was worried. Because if Klaus was worried, his head wasn't put on straight, and if his head wasn't put on straight, he was deemed ( in Jordanna's words ) screwed like hell.
Just then, footfalls interrupted the Jones' thoughts, her eyes shifted over to the doorway, watching as Freya and Elijah slowly, almost hesitantly, made their way into the room.
It seemed as though while Jordanna had been floating away with her thoughts, Klaus had dug out an old, chipped wooden box from the safe hidden snugly behind a rather large painting on the wall.
Jordanna slowly pushed herself up from the couch as Freya neared her brother, stopping in front of the desk. She tersely picked up one of the envelopes that sat inside the wooden box.
She gave her brother an incredulous look as her fingers skimmed against the parchment, "You collected trophies from all your victims?"
"Of course he did," Jordanna spoke up with a slight scoff. "Obviously, he keeps their letters like some creep. Besides, it's Nik we're talking about ... hellllo!"
