Jughead Jones On Riverdale Novels & Stories

he reminds me that I am looking out for my brother, meanwhile, he is gone, and I understand. “Who was that guy in the end?” I ask him, recalling the handsome face of that older businessman who appeared before me in the end, and Roger informs me that he is one of the rivals. “His name is Jade Jenkins.” Arriving back home, I watch my mother sitting on a couch in the living room and ask me if I enjoyed my day. Only if I could tell her about the gang members I just met.

“If you can get to the child, get close, get anything we can use, Dixon can turn it into a weapon. He can force Winter to the table. Or force him to make a mistake big enough for us to end him.” Jada shook her head frantically. “No,” she whispered. “River, no,,,” But River was already nodding, slow, painful, but certain. “I’ll do it,” he said again. Jada’s shoulders sagged. She pressed her forehead against his good shoulder, tears soaking into the filthy fabric of his torn shirt. Zoe watched them both, Jada’s quiet sobs, River’s broken determination. Then she reached out and placed a hand on River’s good knee. “You’re sure?” she asked softly.

All of them were now criminals. The whole krewe was here. Jones relaxed his clenched fists and let his shoulders slump. “We’ll finish this later,” he said, and bent to pick up the fallen skillet. “Leave it,” said Rooster. “I’ll order a bunch o’ po’ boys for everyone.” “Fine,” said Jones, his anger still threatening to boil over. “What the hell, Jonesy?” asked Mouton again. “Thanks for getting me out of that place, Golem,” replied Jones, ignoring the question.