Chapter Sixty Nine

Chapter 69

The engines roared louder, a menacing growl that shattered the fragile quiet surrounding the safe house. Jemima's grip on her phone tightened, her blood running cold as the words on the screen taunted her: “Run.”

"Jay," she repeated, this time louder, her voice steadier despite the fear clawing at her chest. "They're here."

Jay was already on his feet, his gun drawn, his body tense as he scanned the room for options. "We need to move. Now."

Jemima turned toward Marcus, who was still slumped on the couch, his breathing labored. "Can you stand?"

Marcus's eyes flickered open, his face pale but determined. "Not much choice, is there?" he rasped.

Jay moved to his side, pulling him to his feet with practiced ease. Marcus leaned heavily on him, wincing with every step. Jemima grabbed the first-aid kit and the small duffel bag of supplies she'd stashed earlier. Her hands moved swiftly, methodically, despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

"Which way?" Jay asked, his voice clipped.

Jemima hesitated for a split second, her mind racing. The industrial park was a maze of derelict buildings and overgrown pathways. If they moved quickly, they could lose their pursuers, but one wrong turn could trap them.

"There's a drainage tunnel behind the building," she said finally, her voice steady. "It leads out to the main road. If we can get there before they close in..."

Jay nodded, already moving toward the back door with Marcus in tow. Jemima followed, her injured arm throbbing with every step.

The sound of the engines was deafening now, accompanied by the screech of tires as vehicles skidded to a halt outside. Voices shouted orders, their words muffled but unmistakably hostile.

Jemima glanced back as they slipped out the back door, her heart hammering in her chest. The dark shapes of men spilled out of the trucks, their movements sharp and purposeful. She recognized Alan's signature ruthlessness in their precision.

They didn't have much time.

"Keep moving," she hissed, pushing Jay and Marcus forward.

The drainage tunnel was just as she remembered: narrow, damp, and reeking of stagnant water. She dropped to her knees, crawling through the opening and motioning for the others to follow.

Flashes of a distant memory surfaced in her head, causing her to halt momentarily. Why did this place remind her of something she could not quite remember.

“Come on!” She whispered, not wanting to dwell on it as they were already in grave danger.

Jay hesitated, glancing back toward the safe house. "They'll find the tunnel," he said grimly.

"They'll find us faster if we stay here," Jemima snapped, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Jay relented, helping Marcus through before squeezing in himself. The tunnel was cramped, the rough concrete scraping against their skin as they crawled. Jemima led the way, her breathing harsh in the confined space.

Behind them, the shouts grew louder, punctuated by the occasional gunshot. She could hear the men searching the safe house, their frustration evident as they overturned furniture and smashed windows.

"Faster," Jemima urged, her voice a harsh whisper.

The tunnel seemed to stretch on forever, the darkness pressing in around them. Jemima's mind raced with plans, her thoughts fragmented but relentless. They needed to regroup, to find a way to turn the tables on Alan before he backed them into a corner they couldn't escape.

Finally, the tunnel opened up into a drainage ditch on the side of the main road. Jemima scrambled out, her lungs burning as she gulped in the cold night air. Jay and Marcus followed, both looking worse for wear but alive.

"Now what?" Jay asked, his tone edged with frustration.

Jemima scanned their surroundings, her eyes narrowing as she spotted a small cluster of trees on the other side of the road. "We'll hide there for now. They won't expect us to double back."

Jay frowned but didn't argue, helping Marcus across the road as Jemima covered their retreat.

The trees provided little shelter, but it was better than nothing. They crouched among the shadows, their breaths shallow as they listened for any sign of pursuit.

Jemima's phone buzzed again, the vibration startling in the stillness. She checked the screen, her stomach twisting at the sight of another message from the unknown number:

“You can't run forever.”

Her grip tightened on the device, her anger flaring. She didn't know who was behind the messages—Alan, Jon, or some other player in this twisted game—but she was done running.

"We need to go on the offensive," she said, her voice low but firm.

Jay stared at her, his expression incredulous. "Are you serious? We're outnumbered, outgunned, and Marcus can barely stand. We need reinforcements."

"And how long will that take?" Jemima shot back. "By the time Diane's people get here, Alan will be long gone—and with him, any chance we have of ending this."

Jay opened his mouth to argue but closed it again, his jaw tightening. He knew she was right, even if he didn't like it.

"What's the plan, then?" Marcus asked, his voice weak but resolute.

Jemima hesitated, her mind racing. She didn't have a concrete plan, just a desperate determination to turn the tide.

"We draw them out," she said finally. "Make them think they've cornered us, then hit them where it hurts."

Jay snorted. "And how do you propose we do that?"

Jemima's lips curled into a grim smile. "We make me the bait."

Meanwhile…

Alan sat in the back of the lead truck, his laptop balanced on his knees. The tracker blinked steadily, marking Jemima's last known location near the drainage tunnel.

"She's clever," he admitted, his tone almost admiring. "But not clever enough."

The scarred man leaned against the door, his expression skeptical. "You sure this is worth it? We've already got what we need."

Alan's eyes glinted with malice as he took a drag from his cigarette. "It's not just about what we need. It's about sending a message. Jemima thinks she can repay us by killing Jon, my father and Dennis? After everything we did for her Dimitri? We took her in, she and Marcus and now they turn their back on us and act like nothing happened? No, I won’t let that happen."

Dimitri Collins came to light, revealing himself as the scarred man. He stared at his sim and a huge sense of pity engulfed him, realizing that he was partly the reason for Alan’s deep rooted hatred for the valerians. Dimitri sighed heavily before nodding slowly, "Your call."

Alan's smirk widened. "It always is."

Back at the Trees….

Jemima paced among the shadows, her mind working overtime as she formulated her plan. Jay watched her, his concern evident despite his attempts to mask it.

"This is insane," he said finally, breaking the silence.

"It's the only way," Jemima replied without stopping.

"And what happens if it doesn't work?"

Jemima paused, her gaze meeting his. "Then we die trying."

Jay's jaw tightened, his frustration bubbling over. "You're so damn stubborn, you know that?"

She didn't respond, her focus already shifting back to the task at hand.

Marcus stirred, his voice faint but determined. "Whatever you're planning, I'm in."

Jemima turned to him, her expression softening. "You need to rest. You're in no shape to fight."

"Neither are you," Marcus pointed out, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

Jay sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. But if we're doing this, we're doing it smart. No unnecessary risks."

Jemima's smile was grim. "Since when have we ever played it safe?"

The plan was simple in theory but dangerous in execution. Jemima would lead Alan's men into an ambush, drawing them into the industrial park where Jay and Marcus would be waiting.

They didn't have much to work with—just a few makeshift weapons and their wits—but it would have to be enough.

Jemima positioned herself in the open, her heart pounding as she waited for the inevitable. The faint sound of engines reached her ears, growing louder by the second.

She tightened her grip on the metal pipe in her hand, her jaw set in determination. This was it—the moment that would decide everything.

The trucks screeched to a halt, and Alan's men poured out, their weapons drawn. Jemima stood her ground, her eyes blazing with defiance.

"You wanted me?" she called, her voice echoing through the empty lot. "Come and get me."

The men hesitated, their confusion evident. They hadn't expected her to make it this easy.

Alan stepped out of the lead truck, his smirk widening as he took in the sight of her. "Bold move, Jem," he said, his tone mocking. "But bold doesn't always mean smart."

Jemima didn't respond, her focus narrowing to the task at hand. She just needed to buy enough time for Jay and Marcus to spring the trap.

Alan's men closed in, their movements cautious. Jemima's pulse quickened, but she refused to show fear.

"Any last words?" Alan taunted, his voice dripping with smugness.

Jemima's lips curled into a smirk. "Just one: Run."

At her signal, Jay and Marcus emerged from the shadows, their makeshift weapons swinging. The ambush was chaotic, the element of surprise giving them a brief advantage.

Jemima fought with everything she had, her injuries forgotten in the heat of the moment. She moved with a ferocity born of desperation, her pipe connecting with bone and metal alike.

The fight was brutal, every blow landing with bone-crushing force. Jay and Marcus fought alongside her, their teamwork seamless despite the odds.

But the numbers weren't in their favor. For every man they took down, two more seemed to take his place.

Jemima's breath came in ragged gasps, her body screaming in protest. She stumbled, barely avoiding a blade aimed for her throat.

Alan watched from a distance, his expression unreadable. "Enough," he said finally, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whip.

His men froze, their weapons lowered but ready. Jemima straightened, her chest heaving as she met his gaze.

"You put up a good fight," Alan said, his tone almost amused. "But it's over."

Jemima tightened her grip on the pipe, her resolve unshaken. "Not yet."

Alan's smile widened. "Suit yourself."