Chapter Sixty Four

Chapter 64

Jemima leaned against Marcus's desk, her knuckles white as they gripped the edge. The room was dimly lit, save for the glow of the laptop that still displayed Jon Ross's network of connections. Marcus sat across from her, his brow furrowed as he read through another report. The silence between them was thick, punctuated only by the faint hum of the building's air conditioning.

"We're not going to find anything new this way," Marcus said finally, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. "Jon's too good at covering his tracks."

Jemima glanced at him, her jaw tight. "Then we need to stop waiting for him to make the next move. We need to force his hand."

Marcus tilted his head, skeptical. "And how do you propose we do that? March into his territory and demand answers?"

"If that's what it takes, yes." Her voice was sharp, her determination unwavering. "Sitting here, combing through files, waiting for another attack—it's not working. He's already two steps ahead of us."

"If it was that easy, why didn't you just confront his son when you Saab him at your apartment?" Marcus argued with a raised eyebrow.

"That was different," Jemima insisted, her frustration rising to the surface. She groaned and placed her palms against her forehead to quell the rising migraine she was starting to feel.

"Jem, you're talking about Jon Ross. The man has built an empire out of fear and manipulation. If we step wrong, we're done."

"I don't think that's all there is to him though," Jemima said softly, her tone resolved as flashes of her dream flooded her memory.

Jon was her pillar of motivation and Alan was just the most supportive- then again, it was just a dream and she didn't want to take chances.

"This is Jon and Alan Ross!" Marcus expressed, his agitation becoming palpable.

She straightened, crossing her arms. "Then we make sure we don't step wrong."

Marcus shook his head. "You sound like Alan."

At the mention of his name, Jemima's temper flared. "Don't compare me to him," she snapped. "Alan's playing his own game, and I'm not about to be a pawn in it."

"Then what are you, Jem?" Marcus's voice rose, frustration clear in his tone. "Because right now, it feels like we're all pawns. Jon, Alan—they're the ones controlling the board."

Jemima took a step closer, her eyes blazing. "Not for long. I'm done playing by their rules."

Marcus sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright. Say we do this your way. What's the plan?"

Before she could answer, her phone buzzed on the desk. Both of them froze, their eyes darting to the device. Jemima picked it up, her heart pounding as she saw the name on the screen.

Jay.

She answered quickly. "Jay?"

His voice was low, urgent. "We've got a problem."

Her grip tightened on the phone. "What now?"

"I just got word. Alan's been spotted near one of Jon's warehouses in the industrial district. I think he's setting something up."

Jemima exchanged a glance with Marcus, her pulse quickening. "What kind of setup?"

"I'm not sure," Jay admitted. "But if Alan's there, it can't be good. You need to stay out of it, Jem. Let me handle this."

"Not a chance," she said firmly. "If Alan's making a move, I need to know what it is."

"Jem—"

"I'm going," she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Send me the location."

Jay sighed heavily. "Fine. But be careful. And for the love of God, don't go in alone."

"I won't," she promised but Jay didn't sound convinced.

"I'll be with you shortly, don't go in without me," Jay demanded, ending the call.

Marcus stood, his arms crossed. "What's happening?"

"Alan's at one of Jon's warehouses," she said, grabbing her coat. "We're going to find out why."

Marcus hesitated. "This could be a trap."

"Probably," Jemima admitted, already heading for the door. "But it's a risk we have to take."

---

The industrial district was eerily quiet as Jemima and Marcus pulled up to the warehouse. The building loomed before them, its corrugated metal walls streaked with rust. A single light flickered above the entrance, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement.

Jemima stepped out of the car, her eyes scanning the area. "Jay said Alan was spotted here. Keep an eye out."

"Didn't Jay say to wait for him?" Marcus asked, his voice a harsh whisper as he stared into Jemima's eyes. Determination laced her gaze as she brushed her hand through her hair.

"There's no time, let's go!" Jemima insisted, leading the way as she continued scanning the area.

Marcus followed, his hand resting on the concealed weapon at his hip. "You sure about this?"

"No," she admitted. "But I don't see another choice."

"Oh, I know! How about we wait till Jay gets here?" Marcus suggested, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"I'm tired of Jay always fighting my battles Marcus, so how about you just cooperate with me on this one?" Jemima insisted, her gaze hardened as she stared into Marcus's eyes. He sighed heavily before slumping his shoulders in a quiet resolve.

They approached the warehouse cautiously, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the gravel beneath them. Jemima's heart pounded in her chest, each step bringing her closer to the unknown.

As they reached the door, Marcus gestured for her to stop. He leaned in, listening for any signs of movement inside. After a moment, he nodded, and they slipped through the door, the heavy metal creaking as it swung shut behind them.

The interior was dark, the air thick with the smell of oil and metal. Stacks of crates lined the walls, and faint voices echoed from somewhere deeper within.

"Over there," Marcus whispered, nodding toward a staircase leading to a raised platform.

Jemima followed him silently, her senses on high alert. They crept up the stairs, pausing at the top to peer around the corner. Below, a group of men stood around a table, their faces obscured by shadows.

And there, at the center of the group, was Alan.

Jemima's breath caught as she watched him. He was speaking to the others, his tone calm but commanding. She couldn't make out the words, but the tension in the room was palpable.

For some reason, her throat dried up as she stared at him. He looked breathtaking.

"Get yourself together!" Jemima shunned herself, forcing herself back to reality.

"What was that?" Marcus asked, turning his full body to face her.

"Oh nothing," Jemima answered, looking at the silhouette of the unknown men.

"What now?" Marcus whispered, returning his full gaze to the men.

Before she could answer, one of the men below glanced up, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto her.

"Up there!" he shouted, reaching for his weapon.

"Move!" Marcus hissed, pulling her back as a gunshot rang out, shattering the silence.

They bolted down the stairs, the sound of footsteps and shouts following close behind. Jemima's heart raced as they darted between crates, the adrenaline surging through her veins.

"This way!" Marcus called, leading her toward a side exit.

“Where are we going?” Jemima called out to him as they ran blindly.

“Just come with me.”

As they reached the door, it burst open, and Alan stepped through, his gun aimed directly at them.

"Going somewhere?" he drawled, a smirk playing at his lips.

Jemima froze, her mind racing. "Alan, what the hell are you doing?"

"Cleaning up a mess," he replied, his gaze cold. "You've been asking too many questions, Jem. It's time for you to learn when to stay out of things."

"Is that what this is about?" she shot back, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her. "You're working with Jon now?"

Alan's smirk deepened. "That’s my father and we sort of have... an arrangement. One you've been interfering with."

"You're a coward," Marcus spat, his hand hovering near his weapon. "Hiding behind your father’s name, doing his dirty work."

Alan's eyes flicked to Marcus, his expression hardening. "Careful, Marcus. You're already in over your head."

Before Alan could react, Jay lunged forward, knocking the gun from his hand. It clattered to the floor, and Marcus dove for it, grabbing it just as one of Alan's men rounded the corner.

“Jay!” Jemima screamed in relief, she was elated and relieved to see him.

“I told you to wait up, didn’t I?” Jay queried, his eyes turning steely as he stared at Jemima. She cowered beneath his gaze as he shielded her.

The warehouse erupted into chaos as gunfire rang out, the air thick with smoke and shouts. Jemima, Marcus, and Jay fought their way towards the exit, their movements desperate but coordinated.

By the time they burst outside, their breaths came in ragged gasps, and their clothes were streaked with dust and blood. They didn't stop running until they reached the car, diving in and speeding away from the warehouse.

As the city lights blurred past them, Jemima leaned back in her seat, her mind racing.

Alan's words still echoed in her ears: “You've been interfering. It's time to learn your place.”

She clenched her fists, her resolve hardening.

If Alan and Jon thought they could scare her into submission, they were wrong.

This wasn't over—not by a long shot.