Chapter Sixty Six

Chapter 66

The sound of gunfire echoed through the crumbling hallways of the safe house. Jemima's pulse thundered in her ears as Marcus yanked her back into the shadows. They ducked behind a rusted metal beam, the acrid smell of gunpowder filling the air.

"Shit!" Jemima cursed, her heart racing rapidly.

"Not again!" She groaned as a feeling of deja vu engulfed her momentarily, the scene of the previous night replaying in her head.

"Shh! Stay low!" Marcus hissed, his voice barely audible over the commotion.

Jemima's mind raced. Alan's voice from moments ago—smooth, confident, and dripping with betrayal—played on a loop in her head. "Everything's in place." What was in place? What had she stumbled into? What did he mean by that?

Various through crossed her mind, eliciting a disgruntled groan from writhing her as she could not get the answers to all of them.

The sharp crack of another shot jolted her back to reality. She glanced at Marcus, whose jaw was clenched in concentration as he peeked around the corner.

"They're closing in," he muttered.

"Then we need to move," Jemima said, reaching for the small knife concealed in her boot.

Marcus shook his head. "Not yet. We don't know how many there are."

Her frustration flared, but she bit back a retort. This wasn't the time for impulsiveness, no matter how badly she wanted answers from Alan.

"Just follow me," Marcus ordered, leading with such ease. Jemima kept quiet, he was her twin after all.

Meanwhile, Jay crouched at the front entrance, his gun drawn. His sharp eyes scanned the dimly lit corridor, ears straining to pick up any sign of movement. The voices inside had gone silent, replaced by the faint creak of footsteps.

He squinted his eyes to get a clearer view but he couldn't make out the faces.

He pressed the comm in his ear. "Marcus, status?"

"Pinned down at the east wing. Two hostiles, maybe three," Marcus replied, his voice clipped. Jay could hear the ragged breath of Marcus over the phone.

"And Jem?" Jay queried, his gaze hardened as he turned to look ahead.

"I'm fine Jay." Jemima's voice came through the line, her voice steady and soft as she spoke to him. Momentary silence engulfed them before Jay swore under his breath. "Hold your position. I'm coming to you."

"No!" Jemima's voice crackled through the line. "We've got this. Focus on Alan." Her voice was steady and sharp. She got this.

Jay gritted his teeth. He hated the idea of leaving her, but she was right. Alan was the key to whatever Jon was planning, and he couldn't afford to lose him now.

"Alright be safe," Jay said into the comm before turning it off.

"Time to focus on Alan." He said aloud to himself before walking away stealthily.

---

Back in the east wing, Jemima edged closer to the doorway. Her movements were deliberate, every muscle coiled like a spring. She gestured for Marcus to cover her, then darted across the hallway to another beam.

"Watch out!" Jemima warned in a low voice and yanked Marcus away from the reflection of the light.

A figure emerged from the shadows, their gun raised. Jemima reacted instinctively, her knife flashing in the dim light as it embedded itself in the man's arm. He cried out, dropping his weapon, and she followed up with a swift kick to his knee, sending him sprawling.

"Nice," Marcus muttered, stepping out to disarm the man completely.

Before they could catch their breath, a second assailant rounded the corner, his gun aimed directly at Jemima.

"Jem!" Marcus shouted, diving toward her just as the shot rang out.

The bullet grazed Jemima's arm, a searing pain slicing through her flesh.

"Ugh!" Jemima groaned in pain, biting her tongue to hold back a scream. She clutched the wound as Marcus tackled the gunman to the ground. The two men struggled, the sound of fists and grunts filling the hallway.


Jemima's vision became blurry and she began to feel dizzy. She wondered how such a small impact could leave her feeling so weak.

"Mph!" She groaned as she staggered to her feet, blood dripping from her arm. She reached for the gun the first man had dropped, her fingers curling around the cold metal. Turning, she aimed at the second man just as he pinned Marcus against the wall.

"Move!" she shouted.

Marcus ducked, and Jemima fired. The shot was clean, hitting the attacker in the leg. He crumpled to the ground with a pained groan.

"You okay?" she asked Marcus, her voice tight.

He nodded, wiping blood from his lip. "Let's keep moving."

Jemima's steps were strained as she followed Marcus. Each of them struggled to move.

Somewhere on the other side, Jay's footsteps were silent as he moved deeper into the safe house. The corridors were a labyrinth of decay, the walls covered in peeling paint and graffiti. Every creak of the floorboards made his grip on his gun tighten.

He reached the room where the voices had come from earlier. Pushing the door open slightly, he peered inside.

Alan stood near a battered table, his phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Across from him, a burly man with a scar across his cheek was examining a blueprint spread out on the table.

Jay's blood boiled at the sight of Alan's nonchalance. The man was planning something—something big—and he wasn't even trying to hide it.

"Everything's set," Alan was saying. "Jon wants to move by the end of the week."

The scarred man grunted. "And the girl?"

Alan smirked. "She'll be taken care of."

Jay's finger twitched on the trigger, but he held back. He needed more information.

The scarred man folded the blueprint and tucked it under his arm. "Let's hope you're right. Jon doesn't tolerate mistakes."

"Neither do I," Alan replied coldly.

As the men began to move, Jay ducked back into the shadows. He pressed the comm again.

"Jem, I've got eyes on Alan. He's leaving the building."

Jemima and Marcus emerged into the main corridor just as Jay's voice came through. Her heart leaped at the mention of Alan, but the pain in her arm was starting to take its toll.

"Roger that," Jemima answered without hesitation. She'd tell Jay about the gunshot later, for now, let him worry about something else.

"We're on our way," she said, gritting her teeth.

They moved quickly, navigating the maze-like hallways until they reached the front of the building. Jay was waiting near the exit, his gun drawn and his expression grim.

"Alan and another guy just left," he said. "They're heading east toward the docks."

Jemima nodded, her adrenaline overriding the throbbing pain in her arm. "Then we follow."

Jay hesitated, his gaze dropping to the blood staining her sleeve. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine," she said firmly.

"Jem—"

"I said I'm fine, Jay. We can't let him get away."

Jay studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Let's move."

---

The docks were shrouded in darkness, the air thick with the smell of saltwater and diesel. Alan and his companion were moving quickly, their footsteps echoing on the wooden planks.

Jemima, Jay, and Marcus followed at a distance, sticking to the shadows.

Alan paused near a shipping container, turning to his companion. "This is where we split," he said. "Make sure the delivery goes smoothly."

The scarred man nodded and disappeared into the maze of containers. Alan lingered for a moment, lighting another cigarette.

Jemima's grip on her gun tightened. This was her chance.

She stepped out of the shadows, aiming directly at Alan. "Don't fucking move or I’ll blow your head out.”

Alan froze, his cigarette dangling from his lips. Slowly, he turned to face her, his smirk returning.

"Well, well," he said. "Look who decided to join the party."

"Drop the act, Alan," she said, her voice cold. "Tell me what Jon's planning."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're in over your head, sweetheart."

Jay stepped forward, his gun trained on Alan. "Just Answer the fucking question."

Alan's smirk faltered, but he quickly regained his composure. "You think you can stop him? Jon's been ten steps ahead of you this entire time."

Jemima took a step closer, her gun steady. "Then tell me where he is."

Alan's eyes flicked to something behind her, and before she could react, the sound of approaching footsteps filled the air.

"Jem!" Jay shouted, grabbing her arm and pulling her back just as a group of armed men appeared, their weapons raised.

Chaos erupted. Gunfire echoed through the docks as Jemima, Jay, and Marcus scrambled for cover.


Jemima ducked behind a stack of crates, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She could hear Jay and Marcus returning fire, but the sheer number of enemies was overwhelming.

She glanced around, searching for Alan, but he was gone.

Her stomach twisted. Once again, he had slipped through her fingers.

But this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.