Chapter Sixty Three

Chapter 63

Jemima stood in the center of her apartment, the door swinging shut behind her, leaving her alone with the weight of Alan's cryptic message. The pistol, still warm in her hand, felt like an anchor, the cool metal grounding her as the world around her spun. Dennis Saunders. Jon Ross's son. Her pulse raced, her thoughts a frenzy of confusion and dread. She had killed him—yes, but she'd done so to protect herself. To survive. But now, with Alan's revelation, the truth had a new, terrifying face.

Her knees nearly buckled, and she staggered toward the couch, collapsing into it with a deep breath. The room felt smaller, the air thicker. Her fingers shook as she reached for her phone, scrolling through contacts to dial the one person who could help her make sense of this.

Jay answered after the second ring.

"Jem, where are you?" His voice was tight, urgent.

"I'm home," she whispered, her gaze darting toward the door again. "He was here, Jay."

"Alan?" Jay's voice dropped low. "What did he say?"

Jemima's voice wavered as she recounted the conversation. Alan's presence in her apartment, his mention of Dennis Saunders, and his cryptic warning about the danger lurking in the shadows of her ambition. "He said Dennis was his half-brother. That... that Jon is involved in this somehow."

There was a long silence on the other end before Jay finally spoke, his tone grim. "Jon Ross. He's been in this game far too long, Jem. And if Dennis was his son, then we’ve got a problem much bigger than we thought."

"I didn't know!" Jemima's voice cracked, frustration and fear bubbling to the surface. "I didn't know who Dennis was when I killed him. I thought he was just some man trying to kill me."

"Doesn't matter now," Jay said, his voice hardening. "What matters is that Alan's playing a game with you, and you're losing the pieces one by one. We need to figure out what his next move is."

Jemima bit her lip, her mind racing. "What if it's already too late? What if Jon has been pulling strings the whole time and I never even realized?"

"Don't think like that," Jay said, his voice soft but firm. "We'll handle it. You're not alone in this, Jemima. You never were."

But even as Jay spoke, Jemima couldn't shake the feeling that she was standing on the edge of something dangerous. Alan's smirk, Jon's hidden hand—she was entangled in a game where every move she made could bring her one step closer to losing everything.

"I need to go see Marcus," she muttered, her hand gripping the edge of the couch as if holding on to some semblance of control. "This isn't just about me anymore. I have to warn him."

"Alright. But be careful," Jay cautioned. "I'll stay close. Just let me know if anything feels off."

"Thanks," Jemima said, hanging up the phone before rising to her feet. Her legs were shaky, her mind even more so. But she couldn't sit idle any longer. Alan had come to her once; there was no telling when he'd strike again.

The drive to the JEMARC office felt longer than it had the previous morning. The world outside seemed sharper, every light and shadow taking on new meaning as Jemima's thoughts swirled with uncertainty. By the time she reached the office, it was nearing dusk, and the building's glass facade gleamed coldly in the setting sun.

Marcus was already in his office, his back to the door as he typed away at his computer. He didn't notice her enter, and for a moment, Jemima just stood there, taking in his hunched shoulders, the tension in his movements. They were both on edge, caught in a storm neither of them had fully prepared for.

"Marcus," she called, her voice cutting through the silence.

He turned at the sound of her voice, his eyes locking with hers. The concern in his expression made her stomach tighten. "Jemima," he said, his tone cautious. "What's going on? You look..."

"Not good," she finished for him, offering a wry smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I just spoke to Jay. Alan paid me a visit."

Marcus's expression hardened. "Alan? What did he want?"

"He mentioned Dennis Saunders. Said he was his half-brother. That Jon Ross is involved."

Marcus's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he processed her words. "Shit. This complicates things."

"You think I don’t know?" Jemima replied, pacing the length of his office. "Alan's playing games, Marcus. And I'm the target. We need to find out what he knows—and fast."

"We need to be smart about this," Marcus said, standing and crossing the room to stand beside her. "Jon and Alan have too many resources. If they're targeting you because of what happened in Rome, then we need to find a way to turn the tables."

Jemima's mind was spinning, but she held on to one thought: they couldn't afford to back down. Not now. "What if it's already too late to fight back?" she whispered, more to herself than to Marcus.

"It's never too late," Marcus said firmly, his hand resting briefly on her shoulder. "But we have to be careful. No one can know what we're planning—not even Jay. We don't know who we can trust."

Jemima met his gaze, a sense of resolve settling within her. "I'm not backing down. Not now. Not after everything that's been built."

Marcus nodded, his eyes intense. "Then we do this together. Let's find out how deep this goes, Jem."

She met his gaze, a small, determined smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Together," she agreed.

But even as she said it, the uneasy feeling in her gut hadn't lessened. Alan had dropped the first bombshell, but Jemima knew the worst was yet to come.

---

The next few days were a blur of tension and uncertainty. Jemima couldn't stop thinking about the words Alan had left her with, nor the implications of his sudden appearance. Jon Ross had always been a shadowy figure in her past, but now, with the revelation about Dennis, the pieces of a puzzle she hadn't even known existed were beginning to fit together in disturbing ways. She kept her phone close, waiting for more signs, more messages, anything that could give her a clue as to what Alan's next move might be.

At the office, Marcus was quieter than usual, his eyes always darting to the door as if expecting someone to burst in with a bombshell. The team was working at full capacity, but Jemima could feel the pressure mounting. Every decision, every move, felt like it carried weight far beyond the ordinary challenges of running a business.

One evening, Marcus called her into his office. His face was drawn, the lines of stress deeper than ever. "I've got something," he said, flipping his laptop around to face her. The screen showed a series of reports, each one detailing transactions and connections that seemed to lead to one name: Jon Ross.

"I've been digging," Marcus continued, his fingers scrolling through the data. "These are Jon's associates, people who've been moving money around the city. But the interesting part is here." He paused, tapping a specific entry. "This is Dennis Saunders's name. And guess what? He's been on payroll with one of Jon's front companies for years."

Jemima's breath caught in her throat. "But that means... Dennis was working with Jon? Even before I killed him?"

"Looks like it," Marcus confirmed. "He was a part of Jon's operations. But what we don't know is why you were targeted. Why was Dennis even there in the first place?"

Jemima ran a hand through her hair, a wave of nausea sweeping over her. "I never should have killed him. Not like that. Not without knowing who he really was."

"Jem, you did what you had to do," Marcus said, his voice soft but firm. "But now, we need to focus on the next move."

Jemima clenched her fists. "Alan said Jon's not as forgiving as he is. If Jon's involved in all of this, then everything's at risk. My business, my life... Jay."

"That's why we need to be careful," Marcus said, leaning back in his chair. "You're not just dealing with a few street thugs here. Jon Ross is a player, a big one. And Alan's no saint either. But there's something more going on here, Jem. We're missing a piece."

Jemima stared at the laptop screen, her mind racing. "If Jon's been pulling strings behind the scenes, then he's playing a much bigger game. And I'm in the middle of it."

"Exactly," Marcus said. "And we need to figure out how to get ahead of him. Or else we'll be the ones who get burned."

Jemima stood up, her resolve hardening. "Then it's time we stopped playing defense. It's time to go on the offensive."

---

The next few days passed in a blur of covert meetings, coded messages, and surveillance. Jemima and Marcus worked side by side, trying to outmaneuver Jon and Alan at every turn. But it was clear that every step forward only revealed two more dangers lurking in the shadows. Alan seemed to be everywhere, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Jemima knew that time was running out. Alan's words still echoed in her mind, a warning she couldn't ignore: “If you don't play the game right, someone will take you down before you even realize it."

She wasn't about to let that happen.

As the tension reached its peak, Jemima found herself standing on the precipice, staring into the abyss that had opened before her. Alan and Jon had set the stage, and now it was up to her to decide whether she would be the one to win, or the one who lost everything.

One thing was certain: the game had changed. And Jemima Valerian wasn't about to lose. Not now. Not ever.