The Urban God Of Riverdale

Chapter 4: Fear Of The Fearless

Fear spread through the eyes of the men standing around as they watched their master shaken to his core by the mere mention of a name, for the first time in his life.

Joel wasn't scared of anyone and never had been, yet this single name was enough to rattle him completely. There was no question it had to belong to someone extraordinarily powerful.

But the question was how someone like Rowen could possibly know someone like that.

"Tell me, how do you know Hagen?" he demanded.

"Does it matter?"

"Exactly!" Joel let out a sharp, dismissive breath.

"There's no way you know Hagen. You're just throwing names into the air and got lucky!"

The members nodded in agreement. That had to be the only explanation. There was no way someone who could barely afford to feed himself without his wife's income would know someone that powerful.

"You've had your moment and played your tricks well enough. Now it's time to face the consequences of your actions.

Playtime is over!" he snarled.

They surged toward Rowen, their hostility radiating from their dark, cold gazes. They were hungry for his blood and couldn't wait any longer.

Then the screech of tires tore through the area, cutting a path between Rowen and the thugs.

Joel's roar split the air. He turned toward the car that had just pulled into the space, his glare dripping with icy fury.

If looks could kill, he would have torn them apart already.

His expression hardened into something murderous. He despised being interrupted when there was someone to be dealt with.

A group of men in black suits stepped out of the vehicle, and one of them opened the rear door for another passenger.

Joel and the rest of his gang watched closely, blood boiling.

It made this better for them. Since they were already charged up, having more people to unleash themselves on felt like an unexpected bonus.

Meanwhile, a man emerged from the car. His presence alone was suffocating, pressing against their throats and stealing their breath.

Tattoos covered his body, layering every visible inch of his skin. He drew on a cigarette with quiet ease, unbothered by the gang assembled before him.

He pushed his black coat back as he stepped fully out and fixed his gaze on the gang with something cold and bitter rising behind his eyes.

The gang members snarled at him, ready to attack the newcomer who had dared interrupt their business.

But before they could move, Joel barked at them.

He was trembling, swallowing repeatedly as though he'd forgotten how to do it properly. His legs wobbled beneath him and his heart hammered against his ribs like it intended to break free.

He snapped a look at his gang. The sound that tore from his throat came not from anger but from the fear that had buried itself deep in his bones.

"Kneel. Get on your knees right now!" he rasped.

The eyes of the Trinity Bloodhounds went wide with shock.

For the first time since Joel had formed the group, they saw something genuine and unmistakable in his expression—real, paralyzing fear. Their leader was shaking like a child standing before a monster. When they glanced down, they saw the dark stain spreading across his trousers.

They hit the ground without hesitation, not fully understanding the danger they were in. Their leader's reaction was all the explanation they needed.

Joel crashed to his knees as well, though his legs continued to shake and his hands wouldn't stop trembling.

He pressed his forehead to the ground and didn't dare lift it. All the while, the man said nothing. He simply drew slowly from his cigarette, exhaling in long, unhurried streams.

He appeared calm. But Joel knew that was simply the mask of a man who killed without a second thought.

Some called him the King of the Underworld and the Mafia King. Others called him a shadow because he was never truly seen—yet his reach was felt everywhere.

The lower-ranking gang members didn't know him because he didn't deal with people so far beneath him.

He only needed the leaders of each gang to control the underworld. Most of the people under his influence had never seen his face, yet every one of them had spent time preparing for the day they eventually would.

And most of the time, that day meant death—because it also meant the person in question had done something unforgivable.

Joel pressed himself further into the ground. Thought after thought crashed through his mind in waves.

What could I have done? he thought, confusion tearing through him.

He had followed every single rule he'd been given. Unless this was a coincidence. But there were never coincidences with this beast. And not once did it cross his mind that any of this could be connected to Rowen.

"Greetings, Mafia King. Welcome to my territory.

We were just trying to teach this fool a lesson. He attempted to break into our business, which is against underworld law—against you!

That's why we were about to deal with him. Perhaps you could watch for your entertainment?" he added, his words fracturing into barely controlled stutters.

That was the best he could manage—shift the attention elsewhere and pray that Hagen accepted it.

It seemed to have worked. No gunshots cracked, and Joel breathed a sigh of relief, beads of sweat dripping from his face. His blue shirt had darkened completely, soaked through.

Then he felt it. A kick drove into his stomach, landing with surgical precision on a pressure point.

The force sent him flying through the air. Joel writhed in agony, groans tearing from his lips, followed by the sudden taste of blood.

His minions rushed toward him.

"Leader! Leader!" they called out.

He snarled at them. "Get back on your knees! Don't anger Lord Hagen any further!" he rasped.

He dragged his pain-ridden body, folding himself and fighting to get back on his knees as fast as he could.

Meanwhile, he bowed deeply to Hagen.

"Forgive me, my lord. Tell me how I have wronged you and I will fix it right this moment!"

Then Hagen's eyes flashed red with rage, and Joel nearly came apart where he knelt.

The rest of the members instantly felt the air grow heavy around them and shivered, even though nothing was directly aimed at them.

The man crossed to Joel in measured strides and seized him by the jaw, fingers pressing hard against his teeth as he wrenched his head upward.

Their eyes locked, and Joel felt himself die and resurrect multiple times in those seconds.

"How you've wronged me? You tried to harm my master, and you still dare to ask such a question?"

"Your master?" Joel was lost, tears streaming from his eyes. The only thing he could hope for at that moment was a quick death—which was impossible.

More tears flowed. He would never have dared to hurt anyone even remotely connected to Hagen.

"My lord, it must be a mistake. I have never offended anyone who—" Then it dawned on him.

Joel turned toward Rowen with a shaky breath, his entire body trembling.

"Rowen... he... he is your master?"

"That's right. And you should know exactly how dead you are.”