Chapter Seventy

Chapter 70

The night was still except for the shallow breaths of Jemima, Jay, and Marcus. They stood at the center of a smoldering silence, their bodies taut, surrounded by Alan's men. The makeshift ambush had failed to dismantle the relentless machine that was Alan's army, and now the three of them were cornered like prey.

Alan stepped closer, his boots crunching against the gravel as his men created a perfect semicircle around Jemima and her allies. His smirk was no longer one of amusement but triumph.

"Drop the pipe, Jemima," Alan said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "You're not winning this. And I'd hate to ruin that pretty face of yours before the fun begins."

“Why are you so angry at us Alan?” Jemima queried, opting for a conversation instead, hoping that would distract him.

Alan smiled, the humor not reaching his eyes. Jemima’s gaze shifted to Jay momentarily and she could sense the confusion in his expression but she decided to ignore it.

“You seriously can’t be asking me that,” Alan quipped, tucking his hand inside his pocket.

“Tell me, Alan! What happened?” Jemima pushed, inconspicuously adjusting the weapon in her hand.

“I should ask you Jem. We used to be so close. Fuck, we took you in, and then…”

“What do you mean took her in?” Jay asked, taking the words right out of Jemima’s mouth. Alan looked at Marcus who only shook his head.

“She doesn’t know,” Marcus whispered, causing all heads to turn to him.

“I don’t know what?” Jemima queried, her anxiety rising to the point it became almost palpable. She switched her gaze from Marcus to Alan and then when it finally rested upon Alan she could see something else in his eyes- longing but before she could comprehend it, it quickly disappeared.

“I call bull!” Alan yelled, getting out of control.

“Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Jemima demanded but was cut short by a bullet being shot in the air.

“Enough!” Alan yelled, glaring at her. The fury in his eyes made Jemima gulp in fear. Flashes from a lifetime ago appeared in her head but the memory was distorted and she could not quite make out the figures.

“You have one chance to surrender Baby bear,” Alan muttered, the endearment taking her by surprise

Jemima clenched the metal pipe tighter, her knuckles white. The fight wasn't over. Not yet.

Jay shifted beside her, his hand subtly resting on the handle of a blade he had concealed. He glanced at Jemima, silently asking for her next move. Marcus, though visibly worn down, stood tall despite the bloodstained bandages wrapped around his midsection.

"I'd rather die on my feet than surrender to you, Alan," Jemima spat, her voice laced with defiance.

Alan chuckled, low and guttural. "Ah, the Valerian pride. You're stubborn, Jem. I'll give you that. But you're forgetting something." He snapped his fingers, and two of his men stepped forward, dragging someone between them.

Jemima's breath caught in her throat. “Diane.”

Her mother's face was pale, her hands tied behind her back. She stumbled as the men shoved her forward, barely able to keep her footing. Despite her disheveled state, Diane's eyes burned with fury.

"Jemima, don't you dare listen to him!" Diane shouted, her voice strained but fierce.

Alan grabbed Diane by the arm, twisting it just enough to make her wince. "You might be willing to die for your pride, Jemima. But what about her?"

Jay muttered a curse under his breath. Marcus's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides.

Jemima's mind raced. She had to think, had to come up with a plan, but every option seemed to lead to more bloodshed. She locked eyes with Diane, who shook her head subtly, a silent plea not to give in.

Alan tilted his head, his smirk returning. "Tick-tock, Jem. What's it going to be? Fight and watch your mother die? Or drop the pipe and come with me like a good girl?"

Jemima inhaled deeply, her resolve hardening. She couldn't let Alan win—not like this. But before she could respond, the sharp crack of a gunshot echoed through the night.

Chaos erupted.

Elsewhere in the city...

Ava paced back and forth in the dimly lit safe house, her nerves frayed. Her husband sat at the kitchen table, his hands clasped tightly together as he watched her.

"You need to calm down," he said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.

"How can I calm down?" Ava snapped, her eyes blazing. "Jemima's out there, facing Alan and God knows what else, and we're just sitting here!"

"We don't have a choice," he replied. "We need to wait for Diane's signal. Rushing in without a plan will only make things worse."

Ava stopped pacing, her hands trembling. "She's my sister. I can't just sit here and do nothing."

“You didn’t think she was your sister before cajoling your mother to be used as bait for Alan so Jemima would surrender?”

Ava squeezed her face, the guilt gnawing at her insides. This was a messed up situation and she knew it.

Her husband stood, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "Relax and trust her. Diane’s going to find a way and your hands will still be clean. She'll find a way."

Ava nodded reluctantly, though the worry and guilt in her eyes didn't fade.

The sound of a car pulling up outside drew both of their attention. Ava reached for the gun she'd kept on the counter, her body tensing.

The door creaked open, and Lucas Wilde, her informant stepped inside, his face grim.

"We have a problem," he said without preamble.

"What now?" Ava asked, her voice tinged with frustration.

"Alan's men are moving fast. They've got reinforcements stationed near the industrial park. If Jemima doesn't find a way out soon, she's going to be surrounded, and sooner or later, Alan won’t shut up!”

Ava's heart sank. "Then we have to go. Now."

Lucas hesitated. "We can't just charge in blind. Alan's expecting something like that. We need to be smart about this."

Ava's gaze hardened. "Then we'd better come up with a plan—fast."

Back at the industrial park...

The gunshot had come from the trees. Alan's men scattered, shouting orders as they tried to locate the shooter. Jemima took the opportunity to act.

"Jay, now!" she shouted, lunging toward Alan.

Jay moved like lightning, throwing his knife with precision. It struck one of the men holding Diane, causing him to stumble and release her. Marcus, despite his injuries, tackled the other man, giving Diane a chance to break free.

Alan snarled, pulling his gun and aiming it at Jemima. "You'll regret this," he growled.

Jemima didn't give him the chance to fire. She swung the metal pipe with all her strength, knocking the weapon from his hand. Alan staggered back, his face twisting with rage.

"You're just prolonging the inevitable," he spat, drawing a second gun from his belt.

Before he could fire, another shot rang out, this one striking the ground inches from his feet. Alan cursed, retreating behind his men as they closed ranks around him.

"Who the hell is out there?" one of Alan's men shouted, scanning the treeline.

The answer came in the form of a sleek black SUV barreling toward them. The vehicle skidded to a halt, and the doors flew open. Lucas and Ava stepped out, weapons drawn.

The tide began to turn.

By the time the dust settled, Alan and the remnants of his men had retreated. Jemima stood in the middle of the industrial park, her body trembling with exhaustion. Jay and Marcus flanked her, both battered but alive.

Diane approached her daughter, pulling her into a tight embrace. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Jemima pulled back, her expression serious. "This isn't over. Alan won't stop until one of us is dead."

Lucas stepped forward, his face grim. "Then we make sure it's him."

Ava nodded, her gaze fierce. "We stick together. We plan, and we fight. No more running."

Jemima looked around at her family—what was left of it. The road ahead would be brutal, but she wasn't alone.

"We finish this," she said, her voice steady. "Together."

The group nodded in agreement, their resolve unshaken. They had faced the worst and survived, but the fight was far from over. Alan would be back, and next time, he wouldn't hold back.

But neither would they.

As they walked back to the car, Alan’s words from earlier floated through her head.

“Marcus, what did Alan mean?” Jemima queried questioned, halting in her tracks. Everyone stopped and turned to stare at her.

“What do you mean dear?” Diane queried, the fear in her eyes evident. Diane walked up to Jemima and patted her head soothingly.

“Oh it’s nothing, you were probably hit in the head too hard,” Marcus responded, taking Jemima by surprise.

“No, Alan said I don’t know…”

“You’re alright now Jem, that’s the most important thing,” Ava interrupted, dragging her by the arm.

She locked eyes with Jay and saw that he was just as confused as she was. At that moment she realized that her family was hiding something from her, something they were scared of letting her find out.

“Alright,” Jemima agreed cynically, a sardonic smile plastered across her face. Whatever it was her family was hiding from her was huge and she was going to uncover it herself.

And the only way to do it was to talk to Alan herself.