Chapter Eighty

Chapter 80

Jay's fingers trembled as he turned the key in the ignition, but he forced himself to steady his grip. Jemima sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the city blurred past them. Her face was pale, almost ghostly, and the faint red rims around her eyes betrayed how much she'd been crying. But she hadn't said a word since they left the apartment.

The silence between them was unbearable.

"Jem," Jay ventured carefully, keeping his voice low. "Are you okay?"

She didn't respond at first. Her gaze remained fixed on the world outside, as if looking at him would shatter her fragile composure. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely audible.

"Where are we going?"

Jay tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He'd been asking himself the same question. "Somewhere safe," he replied, deliberately vague.

She turned her head toward him, her green eyes dull with exhaustion. "Safe?" A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Safe from what, Jay? From myself? From her?"

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. "From everything," he said softly.

Her laugh faded, replaced by a stony silence. "I don't think there's anywhere safe for me anymore."

Jay exhaled slowly, trying to stay calm. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her everything would be fine, but how could he? He didn't even know what they were up against.

He stole a glance at her as they approached a red light. She looked so small, so vulnerable—nothing like the fierce, confident woman he'd fallen in love with. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that he could still feel her there.

Jemma.

It was as if she was lurking beneath the surface, watching, waiting. The memory of her icy stare sent a chill down his spine. He gripped the wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white.

"Jay," Jemima said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Yeah?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

"If you're taking me to Marcus, just say it."

His stomach twisted at the mention of her brother's name. He hadn't told her, but she'd figured it out anyway. "I thought he could help," Jay admitted.

Jemima scoffed, shaking her head. "Help? Marcus tells Ava everything and sometimes I don’t even feel comfortable with that. What are they going to do? Tell me I’m mental? Ugh”

"That's not fair," Jay said, his tone sharper than he intended. "He cares about you. He'd do anything to protect you."

Jemima rolled her eyes and folded her hands across her chest. She stared out of the window.

“They’d help.”

"Then why does it feel like everyone around me is trying to control me?" she shot back, her voice rising. "First my parents, then Jon and Alan, and now you. I'm not a problem to be fixed, Jay. I'm a person."

Her words cut deeper than he expected, and for a moment, he didn't know how to respond. "That's not what I'm trying to do," he said quietly.

"Then what are you trying to do?" she demanded. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're scared of me."

He opened his mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn't come. She wasn't wrong. He was scared— scared of what she was going through, scared of losing her, and, most of all, scared of Jemma.

"I'm not scared of you," he said finally, his voice trembling. "I'm scared for you."

Jemima stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she turned back to the window, her shoulders slumping. "I don't need your pity," she muttered.

"It's not pity," he said firmly. "It's love."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken for too long. Jemima didn't respond, but he thought he saw her shoulders relax just a little.

When they arrived at Marcus's estate, the tension in the car was almost suffocating. Jay parked the car and turned to Jemima, but she was already opening the door.

"Jem, wait," he said, reaching for her arm.

She froze, her hand on the door handle. "What?"

"I need you to trust me," he said, his voice pleading.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't even trust myself, Jay. How can I trust you?"

Before he could respond, she stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind her.

Jay followed her up the long driveway, his heart pounding. He'd called Marcus on the way, giving him a brief, vague explanation of what was happening. But now that they were here, he wasn't sure how to explain the rest.

The door opened before they reached it, and Marcus stepped out, his expression grim. His sharp suit and calculated demeanor made him look every bit the mafia enforcer he was rumored to be, but Jay knew better. Beneath the cold exterior, Marcus was fiercely protective of his sisters, Jemima especially because she was his twin. His better half.

"Jemima," Marcus said, his voice softer than Jay expected. "Are you okay?"

She stopped a few feet away from him, her arms crossed. "Do I look okay?"

Marcus's jaw tightened, but he didn't push. Instead, he turned to Jay, his eyes narrowing. "What's going on?"

Jay hesitated, glancing at Jemima. She was watching him carefully, as if daring him to tell the truth.

"She's been... having episodes," Jay said cautiously. "Blackouts. And there's... someone else."

Marcus's eyes darkened. "What do you mean, someone else?"

"Her name's Jemma," Jay said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She's... I don't know. A part of her, I think. She says she's protecting her."

Jemima's laugh was sharp and bitter. "Protecting me? That's rich. If she wanted to protect me, she wouldn't be writing threats and scaring the hell out of you."

"Threats?" Marcus repeated, his gaze snapping to Jemima. "What threats?"

Jay pulled the crumpled note from his pocket and handed it to Marcus. As he read it, his expression grew darker and darker.

"Jemima wrote this?" Marcus demanded, his voice cold.

"Yes," Jay said. "She doesn't remember writing it, but Jemma admitted she did."

Marcus's hand clenched around the note, his knuckles white. "Why didn't you call me sooner?"

"I thought I could handle it," Jay admitted. "But it's getting worse."

Jemima's face flushed with anger. "I'm standing right here, you know. Maybe instead of talking about me like I'm not, you could try asking me how I feel."

Marcus turned to her, his expression softening. "How do you feel, Jem?"

"Like I'm losing my mind," she snapped. “Where is Ava?”

“Out with the kids,” Marcus answered.

“She might as well be here to see things for herself so you don’t have to tell her.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, no one knew what to say.

They moved to Marcus's study, where the heavy oak desk and leather chairs made the room feel even more oppressive. Jemima sat in one of the chairs, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Jay stood nearby, his hands in his pockets, while Marcus paced the room like a caged tiger.

"We need to figure out what's triggering these episodes," Marcus said finally.

"She's been under a lot of stress," Jay offered. "The threats, the family history, everything with Jon and Alan—"

"It's not just stress," Jemima interrupted. "This isn't something you can explain away with a therapist and a yoga class, Jay. This is... bigger."

"Then help us understand," Marcus said, stopping to face her. "What's the last thing you remember before Jemma takes over?"

Jemima hesitated, her eyes darting to Jay before returning to Marcus. "It's like... a fog. I feel it coming, but I can't stop it. And then... nothing. When I come back, it's like waking up from a nightmare I don't remember having."

"Do you ever hear her?" Marcus asked. "When you're not blacked out?"

Jemima nodded slowly. "Sometimes. In my dreams. She says things—cryptic things that don't make sense. But lately... it feels like she's getting louder."

Marcus exchanged a look with Jay, his expression grim. "This isn't just a mental health issue. It's something deeper."

"Like what?" Jay asked.

"I don't know," Marcus admitted. "But we need to find out."

The conversation stretched late into the night, but answers remained elusive. Jemima grew increasingly agitated, pacing the room like a trapped animal. Jay tried to comfort her, but she pushed him away, her frustration boiling over.

"You don't get it," she said, her voice trembling. "None of you do. You think you can fix this, but you can't. She's not just a part of me—she's taking over. And I don't know how to stop her."

"You're stronger than you think," Marcus said, his voice steady. "You've been through hell and back, Jem. You can fight this."

"What if I don't want to?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The room fell silent, her words hanging heavy in the air.

Jay stepped forward, his heart breaking at the sight of her. "Jemima, don't say that. We'll figure this out. I promise."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "You don't understand, Jay. She's not the enemy. She's me. And maybe... maybe she's the part of me I need to survive."

Jay reached for her, but before he could touch her, she flinched away. Her green eyes darkened, and a cruel smile curved her lips.

"Careful, Jay," she said, her voice suddenly colder. "You might not like what you find."

His blood ran cold.

"Jemma," Marcus said sharply, stepping between them.

She tilted her head, studying him with a calculating gaze. "Hello, big brother. Long time no see."