The Fates (Book II)

9.6 - Weakness

Let's check in with #Axria in modern-day Greece...

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Scene 6: Weakness

A.D. 2015

Axel Golde groaned as he woke up from a heavy sleep to the persistent buzzing of his phone. There were a thousand better ways to be roused, many of which Atria had used on him in recent days, and all of which involved being aroused. But he knew who was calling him now, and every muscle in his tired body was turned off by the sound.

He rolled out of bed, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Atria was still asleep after he'd disentwined their dewy limbs — luckily, she had always been a deeper sleeper than him — and stepped out onto the veranda still naked. They were staying in a sleek villa on the island of Ios now, one of his several vacation homes. On this hedonistic isle, clothing was often optional and rarely worth the trouble.

"Seriously, kid," he grumbled into the phone as he answered it, "not even moms and clingy girlfriends are allowed to call this often."

"This is what you signed up for, Golde," Jett chided, continuing on calmly over Axel's protests that he'd never signed up for anything. "When a little bitch fails to report back to his boss with progress, then the big dog needs to check in and make sure that the underling is doing what he's told."

Axel responded with a chuckle. "Ha ha, 'big dog'? That's hilarious."

"Actually, Golde, everything about this is quite serious. You know — I suspected soon after meeting you that you were not the most... reliable recruit. That I might have cause to question your commitment to the mission of the Guild. So I took care to secure some insurance."

Silence on the other end, evincing Axel's apprehension as to where Jett was going with this.

"I may have neglected to mention this to you earlier, Golde, but I happen to know where your mother lives," Jett stated. "And no — this is not the start of an 'I fυcked your mum' joke, of the sort that seems to cater to your oh so mature sense of humor."

Golden-green eyes darkened dangerously. Axel had known that he was dealing with a good-for-nothing punk, but he hadn't thought that the boy would stoop so despicably low. He blamed himself now for having underestimated just how villainous Jettison Jacobs was. "You listen to me, kid, if you fυcking dare—"

"There is nothing that I wouldn't dare do, Golde. You should know this. I am a man with no morals, no limits. Men like me are not to be messed with. Today, you have learned this the hard way."

"Yeah, I've learned that you're a bottom-feeding sack of shıt," Axel retorted as his knuckles whitened on the terrace's pale marble railing. After losing his brother, there was no one and nothing on earth that he would protect more fiercely than his mother. "If you touch a hair on her head, you sick son of a bitch, I will drag your sorry ass to hell and make you pay for it."

"Spare me the big talk; save it for the whores desperate enough to take your cock," Jett spat. "I expect progress by this time next week, Golde. Actual and substantial progress. Or else I just might be inclined to pay your mum a little visit..."

"A week? Hell, it could take months, fυcking years, to figure—"

"Somehow I get the sense, Golde, that you're more interested in making Miss Shearer love you, making yourself her weakness, than in figuring out what her weakness truly is. Pray tell, am I mistaken about this?"