Ambivalent [JackalxReaders]

Destination [Mafia!Boss!JackalxReader]

The surreptitious underground is governed by barbarous individuals who have assimilated enough puissance to be deemed implacable. The laws aren't engraved in documents or approved by a surplus of individuals, they're just known. They're communicated by silent gestures and if fractured in any possible way, the culprit as well as all of their associates are annihilated, but not before making their lives complete hell; it's savage and inhumane on a multitude of levels, but that's how this obscure world operates and continues to thrive. Altruism doesn't exist in the depths, everyone's out to better themselves and their current situations.

There are five—maybe six?—profound dictators of this barbaric underground. Their families are fortified and surrounded by the menacing silhouettes of the past. The organizations cooperate with each other, exchanging ideas to achieve a specific goal. However, no matter how tightly or intricately the families work together, their allies are always observing—waiting for them to make a grave error. And when a mistake manifests, not if, the allies morph into beasts from nightmares and lacerate at their former partner's throat. It's an effective stratagem to expand territory while decimating the competition.

Jackal's consortium pounced at the opportunity when another titan shattered one of the laws.

***

Jackal sits in an exorbitant, lust-red cushioned recliner. Subdued lights illuminate a fraction of his spacious office, but still permit vivacious shadows to dance along the walls; renowned paintings, with a plethora of merit to accompany the works, hang from his walls. His office is silent, the only rhythmic sounds that surface are his breaths. Jackal's elbows rest on his expensive mahogany desk as he stares at the colossal door of his office. His gaze is lethal alone, threatening to penetrate the door if someone doesn't come by and deliver good news. His dexterous fingers begin drumming against the surface of his desk.

He's getting impatient.

The golden doorknob turns, drawing every ounce of Jackal's attention. The door opens, revealing his intelligence officer, she sports an almost neutral expression. Jackal's most loyal and intelligent men stand behind her, their weapons concealed. "Boss," his intelligence officer starts, "we've found them."

Jackal stands abruptly, his recliner moving back a noticeable distance as he does so. He maneuvers around his desk and marches across his chambers, his footsteps proclaim his definitive, terrifying status. "Where?" He demands, standing close to her.

A gulp traverses down her esophagus, not used to being within close proximity of Jackal, as she prepares to relay the information. Her tongue runs over her chapped lips and the address departs. Jackal doesn't hesitate to leave the room, his men (and intelligence officer) follow in tow.

Jackal's thundering footsteps can be heard while he guides himself out of the estate. He throws open the front door and locates the running car that's waiting for him; he scampers across his freshly cut lawn and his men have no trouble in keeping up with his pace. The oppressive night glistens as his chauffeur exits the vehicle and moves to open the back doors. Jackal (as well as his followers) slide into the vehicle, a section of his suit becoming hotter momentarily because of the sudden friction. He grasps his lawless tie and readjusts it. His ears register the closing of the door.

"Where to?" Is all the driver asks as his eyes flicker to the mirror, perceiving everyone. Jackal relinquishes the address, his voice is mesmerizing with a hint of gravel. His intelligence officer can't help but gulp as his melodic voice threads through her ears; she subjugates a blush, determined to keep it from bubbling on her cheeks. Her eyes flitter over to Jackal's, noting that fury has utterly devoured his normal iris.