Chapter Ninety Six

Chapter 96
The dim hospital room seemed quieter than usual, the muted hum of machines blending with the distant chatter of staff in the hallway. Jemima lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The session with Dr. Elara and Dr. Kaine earlier had left her mentally drained. She and Jemma were finding common ground, but the integration process was like walking a tightrope—one wrong step, and everything could crumble.
Jemima slowly got up and walked to the bathroom. She eased herself then went to the sink to wash her hands. She bent down and splashed water on her face.
The cool water felt good against her bare skin. When she looked up into the mirror, she was staring face to face with her reflection— a reflection that wasn’t quite hers, one that she had been forced to get accustomed to.
“What?” Jemima asked, taking the napkin to wipe off the droplets of water off her face.
“I don’t bite you know,” Jemma’s voice was soft, indicating that she didn’t want to argue or fight.
“But you’ve been violent in the past, you hurt the people I love. You killed mother and father. You turned against Marcus and wanted to help Alan. Help me understand how I should trust you still?” Jemima pleaded, weary from being in constant battle with her mind.
“The sooner you understand that I did all of that to protect you the better. Damien Valerian raped you, he raped us. Mother knew and kept quiet. She told us to be quiet, she sold you to Jon so you could be trafficked for sex. Ava was going through the same thing and she shut us out! Marcus ran away from us. If you would just remove the rose-colored glasses from your eyes, you would see what kind of delinquent family we’re from!”
There was pain in Jemma’s eyes as she spoke, the gravity of what she was saying and what she had endured sinking heavily into Jemima.
“Okay they did that to us, how does that help me now? I’m stuck here away from them and…” Jemima inhaled sharply as she stared at the ceiling.
Tears prickled from the corner of her eyes.
“Let’s just talk to Dr Elara. She always knows what to do,” Jemima finished, causing Jemma to nod in agreement.
For once they agreed.
Jemima walked back to her bed and lay down, facing upwards.
The door creaked open, and Vanessa entered, her face a mask of forced calm. She carried a tray with tea and a small plate of biscuits, setting it down on the bedside table.
“Tea always makes things better," Vanessa said softly, her usual warmth dimmed.
Jemima offered a faint smile. "Thanks, Ness. That’s very kind of you. I could use some normalcy right now."
Vanessa sat in the chair by Jemima's bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Jemima noticed the faint tremor in her fingers.
"You're shaking," Jemima said, sitting up slightly. "What's wrong?"
Vanessa hesitated, her eyes darting to the window. "Nothing. Just... tired, I guess. It's been a lot lately."
Jemima narrowed her eyes. "You're a terrible liar, Ness. What's going on?"
Vanessa's jaw tightened, and for a moment, Jemima thought she might brush off the question. But then Vanessa sighed, her shoulders sagging under an invisible weight.
"It's Dimitri," she said finally. "He's been acting... strange. Distant."
Jemima's heart sank. "Is he okay? Did something happen?"
"I don't know," Vanessa admitted, her voice trembling. "He's not talking to me. He keeps disappearing for hours, and when he comes back, he's—different. Like he's carrying something he can't share."
Jemima frowned, her mind racing. Dimitri was one of the most reliable people she knew. For him to act out of character was alarming.
"Do you think it's connected to Alan's disappearance?" Jemima asked.
Vanessa flinched, her reaction too sharp to ignore.
"What aren't you telling me?" Jemima pressed her tone firm.
Vanessa looked away, her hands twisting in her lap. "I don't know anything for sure."
"Vanessa," Jemima said, her voice low and warning.
Vanessa stood abruptly, pacing the small room. "I'm trying to protect you, Jem. You don't need more on your plate right now."
"Don't do that," Jemima snapped. "Don't be like the rest and decide for me. If you know something, you have to tell me."
Vanessa stopped pacing, her back to Jemima. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
Finally, she turned around, her face pale. "I think Dimitri knows where Alan is."
The words hit Jemima like a punch to the gut. "What?"
"I overheard him on the phone," Vanessa said quickly. "He didn't say much, but it was enough to make me suspicious. He mentioned a location—Midnight Cove."
Jemima's stomach churned. Midnight Cove was a secluded area on the outskirts of the city, notorious for its ties to the Bratva.
"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" Jemima demanded.
"I was scared," Vanessa admitted. "What if I'm wrong? What if confronting him makes things worse?"
Jemima stared at her, torn between frustration and understanding. Vanessa had always been fiercely loyal, but this hesitation felt out of character.
"We need to go there," Jemima said firmly.
Vanessa's eyes widened. "You can't leave the hospital! You're still recovering."
"I don't care," Jemima said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Pain shot through her ribs, but she ignored it. "If Dimitri knows something, I need to find out."
Vanessa hesitated, “Jay and Marcus are working on it. There is no need to stress.”
“And Ava?”
“She had to go to the airport to send the kids abroad, so they could be away from all this drama. Everything is under control Jem…”
“I’m going!” Jemima cut her short, her eyes speaking volumes. Vanessa then nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But I'm coming with you."
The drive to Midnight Cove was tense. Vanessa gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white. Jemima sat in the passenger seat, her thoughts a whirlwind.
"Are you sure you are up for this?" Vanessa asked, glancing at Jemima. The pain in her eyes was almost visible.
"I do not have a choice," Jemima replied.
“Yes, you do! Alan has been trying to get rid of the valerians for a long time, why would you risk your life for him?”
“I feel a sort of connection to him that I can’t explain. I can't sit back and do nothing." Jemima hoped, waiting to see if Jemma was going to protest but there was nothing.
As they approached the cove, the air grew colder, the dense trees casting eerie shadows over the narrow road. Vanessa parked the car a safe distance away, and they continued on foot.
The cove was quiet, the stillness unnerving. Jemima's instincts were on high alert as they crept closer to the abandoned warehouse at the edge of the water.
Vanessa stopped suddenly, her hand on Jemima's arm. "Wait."
"What is it?" Jemima whispered.
Vanessa's face was pale, her eyes darting around. "I think we're being watched."
Jemima scanned the area, her pulse quickening. She couldn't see anyone, but the feeling of being observed was undeniable.
She was SK! She tried to remind herself that she was brave. All her guts were screaming at her to go back.
"We keep moving," Jemima said, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her.
They reached the warehouse, its rusted doors hanging slightly ajar. Jemima pushed one open carefully, wincing at the loud creak. Inside, the air was damp and smelled of decay. She clutched the side of her Jean to feel for her pistol and luckily, it was there.
“Good thing I texted Jay first,” Jemima muttered to herself.
Vanessa didn’t hear.
Footsteps echoed from deeper within, and Jemima tensed. She motioned for Vanessa to stay close as they moved toward the sound.
They entered a large room filled with crates and scattered debris. In the center stood Dimitri, his back to them, speaking in hushed tones to someone hidden in the shadows.
"Dimitri?" Jemima called, her voice sharp.
He froze, turning slowly. His face was a mixture of shock and guilt. "Jem? What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Jemima said, her gaze narrowing. "What's going on?"
Before Dimitri could answer, the figure in the shadows stepped forward. Jemima's breath caught as she recognized them.
It was Vanessa.
"What the hell is this?" Jemima demanded, looking between the two of them.
Vanessa's expression was unreadable, but Dimitri looked devastated.
"I didn't want you to find out like this," Vanessa said quietly.
"Find out what?" Jemima's voice rose.
Vanessa took a step closer, her eyes pleading. "I didn't have a choice, Jem. They threatened Dimitri. They threatened me. If I didn't help them, they were going to kill us."
"Help who?" Jemima asked, her stomach twisting.
Before Vanessa could answer, the sound of a gun cocking filled the room. Jemima turned to see Alan stepping out from behind a crate, a gun in his hand and a smirk on his face.
"Hello, Jemima," he said.
Jemima's heart raced as she stared at Alan. He looked different—hardened, colder.
"Alan?" she whispered, disbelief coloring her tone.
"Surprised to see me?" he asked, his voice mocking.
"What is this? You’ve been missing ever since the death of your father, Jon. Everyone’s been looking for you. What’s going on here?” Jemima demanded in a rushed tone, her mind struggling to piece together the puzzle.
Alan's smirk widened. "This, dear Jemima, is the end of the line."
The sound of a gunshot echoed through the warehouse, and everything went black.