Chapter One Hundred And Eight

Chapter 108
The night was still, but it carried an eerie weight as if the world itself was holding its breath. Jemima leaned against the kitchen counter, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her now-cold cup of coffee. The events of the evening played on a loop in her mind—the attack, the chaos, the tension between her and Jay. She hated feeling powerless, but what gnawed at her most was the growing certainty that this wasn't over.
Across the room, Marcus stood by the window, his silhouette outlined by the faint moonlight filtering through the blinds. His jaw was clenched, his arms crossed, the image of a man on the brink of action. Jay sat at the dining table, a map spread out before him, his expression grim as he studied the terrain.
"I still don't understand," Jemima said, breaking the silence. "Why would Jon Ross go after a power plant? What's the endgame here? No mafia has ever been interested in those sorts of things.”
Marcus turned to her, his gaze sharp. "It's not just any power plant, Jem. This one connects to multiple grids across the globe. If he poisons it or causes a meltdown, it could trigger catastrophic chain reactions."
"And that gives him...what? Control? Leverage?"
"Both," Jay answered, not looking up from the map. "Jon's always been about power. If he can hold the world hostage, he becomes untouchable. He couldn’t get control over New York and now he wants control over not just America but the world at large.”
Jemima shivered. "So what's the plan? We can't just wait for him to make his next move."
Jay finally lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers. "We don't wait. We take the fight to him."
Marcus nodded in agreement. "We need to hit him before he consolidates his forces. But first, we need to figure out where he's operating from."
"And how do you propose we do that?" Ava asked as she emerged from within. “Don’t worry, the kids are fine,” Ava quickly added the moment she saw the questions lingering on their faces. “ I put them to bed.”
They all nodded in understanding.
“So how do you propose we find out where his operations are?” Ava reiterated, glancing at the two men.
Her eyes were wearied and her movements were slurred from exhaustion. She too was fed up with this constant battle.
Jay leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "Vincent might have left us a trail. He was cocky tonight, too sure of himself. Men like that always leave clues."
“Shouldn’t we speak to Alan, his son?” Jay suggested, glancing at everyone. “He’d have a lead about his dad don’t you think?”
“I don’t think so. The last time we had an altercation it was too traumatizing for him and that was what influenced our decision to not kill Jon. This time, we can’t risk it.” Jemima added, her eyes having a steely gaze over them.
Marcus pulled out his phone. "I'll call Dimitri. He's been monitoring Jon's movements. If anyone has intel, it's him."
At the mention of Dimitri, Jemima's brow furrowed. "Speaking of, where were Dimitri and Vanessa tonight? They should have been here when everything went down."
Marcus's lips pressed into a thin line. "I was wondering the same thing."
"They've been acting strange lately," Jay added, his tone neutral but his eyes wary. "Almost...distracted."
Jemima frowned. "You don't think—"
"No," Jay interrupted firmly. "Dimitri's my cousin and his loyalty has always withstood the test of time. Vanessa too. But we need to figure out what's going on with them."
Before Jemima could respond, Marcus's phone buzzed. He answered it quickly, his voice low as he spoke to Dimitri. Jay stood and moved to the window, his gaze scanning the darkness outside.
"Something's off," he muttered, more to himself than to Jemima.
She joined him, peering out into the night. "You think they'll come back?"
Jay shook his head. "Not tonight. But Jon's not done. This was just the beginning."
Marcus ended his call and turned to them. "Dimitri has a lead. There's a warehouse on the outskirts of the city. He thinks Jon's using it as a base of operations."
Jay nodded. "Then that's where we start."
The drive to the warehouse was tense, the silence in the car broken only by the occasional crackle of the radio. Jemima sat in the back seat, her hands gripping her phone tightly. She wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline or the fear, but her chest felt tight, her breathing shallow.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Marcus glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "We don't have a choice."
Jay, sitting in the passenger seat, turned to look at her. "We'll be fine, Jem. Follow our lead and trust your instincts."
She nodded, though she wasn't entirely convinced.
When they arrived, the warehouse loomed before them like a sleeping beast, its metal walls reflecting the dim glow of the nearby streetlights. The air was heavy with the smell of oil and rust, and the faint hum of machinery could be heard from within.
Jay motioned for them to move quietly, his gun drawn as he led the way. Marcus followed closely, his weapon at the ready. Jemima stayed behind them, her heart pounding as they approached the entrance.
Jay pressed his back against the wall, peeking through a crack in the door. He turned to them, his expression grim. "There are at least six men inside, heavily armed. We'll need to be careful."
Marcus nodded. "What's the plan?"
Jay thought for a moment before speaking. "We create a distraction, draw some of them out. Then we move in and take them down."
"And how exactly do we create a distraction?" Jemima asked, her voice laced with skepticism.
Jay smirked. "Leave that to me."
Before she could protest, he disappeared around the corner. Moments later, a loud crash echoed through the night, followed by the sound of shouting.
Marcus grinned. "Classic Jay."
The door to the warehouse swung open, and three men rushed out, their weapons raised. Marcus and Jemima pressed themselves against the wall, waiting until the men passed before slipping inside.
The interior of the warehouse was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of grease and metal. Stacks of crates and barrels created a maze-like layout, and the sound of footsteps echoed ominously.
Marcus motioned for Jemima to stay close as they moved deeper into the building. They could hear voices ahead, the men shouting orders as they searched for the source of the noise.
Suddenly, a hand clamped down on Jemima's shoulder, pulling her back. She spun around, her heart leaping into her throat, only to come face-to-face with Jay.
"Relax," he whispered, his eyes scanning the area. "The distraction worked. Most of them are outside. Let's move."
They continued forward, their movements careful and deliberate. As they rounded a corner, they came upon a small office. The door was slightly ajar, and light spilled out into the hallway.
Jay gestured for them to stop, then peeked inside. His expression darkened.
"What is it?" Marcus whispered.
"Vincent," Jay replied, his voice low. "And he's not alone."
Jemima felt a surge of anger at the name. "Let's get him."
Jay shook his head. "Not yet. We need to know what he knows first."
They listened quietly, straining to hear the conversation inside.
"Jon wants the key by tomorrow," Vincent was saying. "He's losing patience."
"And if we can't get it?" another voice asked.
"Then we make them give it to us," Vincent replied coldly. "By any means necessary."
Jemima's blood ran cold. She glanced at Marcus, who looked just as tense.
Jay motioned for them to move back. Once they were a safe distance away, he turned to them.
"We need to act fast. If Jon gets that key..."
"We won't let him," Marcus said firmly.
Jay nodded. "Let's take out Vincent. He's the key to Jon's operation. Without him, Jon loses his enforcer."
Jemima felt a surge of determination. "Then let's do it."
The fight was brutal. Vincent was stronger and faster than they'd anticipated, and his men were relentless. The warehouse echoed with the sound of gunfire and shouts, the air thick with tension and the acrid smell of gunpowder.
Jemima found herself in the thick of it, her heart pounding as she dodged bullets and returned fire.
Jay and Marcus fought with the precision of seasoned Dons, their movements fluid and calculated. Together, they managed to corner Vincent, forcing him to surrender.
As they tied him up, Jay leaned in close, his voice low and dangerous. "Where's Jon?"
Vincent smirked, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "You'll never find him."
Jay's expression darkened. "We'll see about that."
The drive back to the house was silent, the weight of their victory tempered by the knowledge that the fight was far from over.
When they arrived, Jemima felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She sank into the couch, her hands trembling as she tried to process everything that had happened.
Jay sat beside her, his expression softening as he looked at her. "You did well tonight, Jem."
She shook her head. "I don't feel good. I feel...terrified."
He reached for her hand, his touch grounding her. "That's normal.”
She met his gaze, finding comfort in his words. For now, they had a moment of peace. But they both knew it wouldn't last.
Jon Ross was still out there. And the war was far from over.