Chapter One Hundred And Seven

Chapter 107

The sound of roaring engines shattered the stillness of the evening, the vibrations reverberating through the air like the warning growl of a predator. Jemima's heart thudded as she exchanged a glance with Jay, his expression hardening into one of focus and resolve.  

"What is it?” Jemima asked again, though she already felt the answer in the pit of her stomach.  

Jay's gaze scanned the horizon, his posture rigid. "Trouble," he said, his voice sharp and controlled. "Stay close to me."  

“Trouble? Trouble from whom?” Jemima inquired hastily, her frantic eyes searching Jay's eyes for answers that he did not have. 

“I do not know at this moment Jem but just stay close to me no matter what,” he implored, his eyes searching hers for the least bit of compliance. 

Before Jemima could respond, the back door swung open, and Marcus stepped out, his face a mask of grim irritation. He was already on edge, and the sound of approaching vehicles only heightened his tension.  

"We've got company," Marcus announced, his tone clipped. 

“No kidding Sherlock,” Jemima snapped unintentionally. She was tired of always carpooling from one drama to the other. 

Marcus ignored her, wasting no more time in asking questions that he already knew the answer to. 
“Jay, do you recognize them?"  

Jay shook his head, his jaw tight. "Not yet, but we'll find out soon enough."  

The three of them moved quickly toward the house. Ava appeared in the doorway, her face pale but resolute as she ushered her children inside. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.  

“Nobody knows,” Jemima imputed, her gaze annoyed but the mere fact that her life which was about to seemingly get rosy again was going to be interrupted by some nonsense she had no idea about. 

"Get the kids to the safe room,” Marcus ordered. "Lock the doors and stay there until one of us comes for you. Go, Go, now!” Marcus barked, gearing Ava into action. 

Ava didn't argue. “Come on kids,” she grunted as she gathered her children and disappeared into the house, the sound of her footsteps fading as she led them to safety.  

Jay reached for the gun holstered at his side, his movements fluid and practiced. "Jemima, stay behind me. No heroics."  

“I’m not an egg Jay!” Jemima jeered through gritted teeth. 

“Jeez relax Jem! You’ve just been annoying and I won’t tolerate it anymore,” Marcus warned sternly, his gaze fixed upon his sister. 

How could two people be so alike yet so dissimilar?

“Then once and for all put an end to these constant attacks because I’m fed up!” Jemima yelled, her chest rising and falling as she breathed heavily. 

“Relax Jem,” Jay soothed, his voice calm yet firm. Jemima glanced at him momentarily, grabbing a gun from the closest drawer. 

Jemima bristled but nodded her head in compliance. “Fine.” 
She wasn't about to argue with him, not when the stakes were this high. Her mind raced, trying to anticipate what was coming, who was coming, and why.  

The vehicles screeched to a halt just outside the gate, the sound of doors slamming echoing through the air. A group of men emerged, their faces obscured by shadows. They were armed, their weapons gleaming ominously in the fading light.  

Marcus stepped forward, his hand resting on the gun at his hip. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.  

One of the men stepped forward, his posture casual but menacing. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a scar running down the side of his face. His eyes glinted with a dangerous mix of amusement and malice.  

"Marcus Valerian," the man drawled, his voice low and mocking. "I've heard a lot about you."  

“And I haven’t heard shit about you!” Marcus snapped, daring him to challenge him. 

“Maintain your cool,” Jay whispered. 

“Where is Vanessa and Dimitri? Shouldn’t they be out here?” Jemima inquired, suddenly noticing that she hadn’t seen them in a while. 

“Don’t you think that’s rather abrupt Jem? We’ve got a bigger problem so let’s just focus.” Jay suggested, his eyes never leaving the men who had just arrived. 

“Hello, Jemima!” The man greeted me with a sinister smile plastered across his face. 

"And you are?" Marcus shot back, his tone sharp.  

The man smirked. "Call me Vincent. I'm here on behalf of someone you know well. Jon Ross sends his regards."  

Jemima's stomach dropped at the name. Jon Ross. The man who had been a thorn in their side for months, a rival who had made it his mission to dismantle everything the Valerians had built.  

"What does Jon want this time? The last time we had a battle, we spared him with a promise that he’d leave us alone so what the fuck does he want now?" Marcus demanded, his voice cold.  

Vincent chuckled, the sound grating and smug. "He wants what's his. And he's tired of waiting."  

Jay stepped forward, his presence commanding. "You've got the wrong house," he said, his voice calm but laced with steel. "Whatever Jon thinks he's owed, he's not getting it here."  

Vincent's smile widened. "That's where you're wrong, Jay. Jon knows exactly what he's owed. And he's willing to take it by force if necessary."  

The tension snapped like a taut wire, and before anyone could react, the sound of gunfire erupted.  

Jay shoved Jemima behind him, his gun already drawn as he fired at the men. Marcus ducked behind the cover of a nearby wall, returning fire with precision.  

Jemima's breath came in short gasps as she crouched low, her back pressed against the side of the house. She could hear the chaos around her—the crack of gunfire, the shouts of men, the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground but she would not sit back down and allow them fight so she got up. 

Aiming the gun she held earlier, she fired. Shooting and targeting her victims. 

Jay moved like a predator, his movements fluid and deadly. He took down two men with swift, calculated shots, his focus unshakable. Marcus was just as ruthless, his years of experience evident in every move he made.  

Jemima's heart pounded as she tried to steady her breathing. She didn’t feel like a fighter anymore, not like Marcus or Jay, but she wasn't about to sit idly by while her family was under attack.  Her ammunition had finished. 

Her eyes landed on a discarded weapon lying a few feet away. Without thinking, she lunged for it, her fingers closing around the cold metal.  

"Jemima, no!" Jay's voice rang out, but she ignored him.  

Rising to her feet, she aimed at one of the men advancing on Marcus and pulled the trigger. The recoil jolted her arm, but the shot found its mark. The man dropped, his weapon clattering to the ground.  

Jay swore under his breath, but there was no time for reprimands. The fight raged on, the odds shifting as more men fell.  

Finally, the last of the attackers was subdued, the air thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the weight of silence.  

Jemima stood in the middle of the chaos, her hands trembling as she stared at the gun in her hand. Jay approached her, his expression a mix of relief and frustration.  

"What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded, his voice low but fierce.  

She met his gaze, her chin lifting defiantly. "I was thinking about protecting my family. Something you wouldn’t understand.”

Jay's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "What’s that supposed to mean?" he questioned pain and hurt lurching from his eyes. 

Jemima looked away, unable to bear the raw emotion that emitted from his eyes. 

Marcus approached, his face grim. "This isn't over. Jon won't stop until he gets what he wants."  

Jay nodded, forcing himself to not think about what just transpired between him and Jem. He would deal with that later but for now, he needed to focus on the issue at hand. 

“Well, what the fuck does he want?” Jay inquired, his tone deadly low which sent shivers down Jemima’s spine.

“The keys to the power plant in the middle of the city. If he gets a hold of it, he is going to poison it and it’ll affect half of the whole population in the world because of the linked connectors it has to every other country,” Marcus explained, causing Jemima to gasp in surprise. 

“That’s just borderline cruel!” Jemima protested, her brows knitting with confusion and worry. 

“That’s why he can not have that key.”

Later that night, after the mess had been cleaned up and the house secured, Jemima and Jay sat together in the living room. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room.  

Jemima leaned against Jay, her head resting on his shoulder. "Jay, I am sorry about what I said earlier," she apologized softly. 

Jay's arm tightened around her. "Why though? Why did you say it?”

Jemima shrugged, “I was pissed. We were having a beautiful time and then something had to ruin it. Makes me wonder if I am cursed because everywhere I go there’s just so much chaos,” she admitted. 

Jay placed his head on hers, “It will be alright eventually and when all this is over, I’ll take you to Rome like you have always wanted.”

She closed her eyes, letting his words soothe her. For now, they were safe. For now, they had each other.