Chapter Ninety Nine

Chapter 99
The corridor was suffocatingly narrow, the dim emergency lights casting flickering shadows across the concrete walls. Each step echoed faintly, a stark reminder of how precarious their situation was. Jemima leaned against the cold surface, trying to catch her breath. Her trembling hands still gripped the gun tightly, her knuckles white from exertion.
Jay placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.
She nodded quickly, her green eyes flicking toward the barricaded door behind them. “I’m fine,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction. The faint ache in her side from her unhealed injuries gnawed at her, but she refused to let it show.
Marcus crouched near the corner, peering into the adjacent hallway. His expression was grim as he whispered, "Jon's not going to stop until we're cornered. We need to find another way out or get ahead of him before his reinforcements close in."
Vanessa tightened her grip on Dimitri’s arm, helping him stay upright. “We don’t have the firepower for this,” she muttered. “And Dimitri’s barely hanging on.”
“I’m fine,” Dimitri grunted, though the pallor of his skin said otherwise. His wound was bandaged, but the strain of the fight was evident in his unsteady movements.
Alan, lingering at the back of the group, looked haunted. “There’s another way,” he said quietly.
All eyes turned to him.
“I know the layout of this place,” Alan continued, his voice gaining strength. “There’s a maintenance tunnel below the east wing. If we can get to it, we’ll have a chance to escape—or at least regroup.”
Marcus regarded him carefully. “And why should we trust you?”
“Because I’m done with him,” Alan replied, his tone resolute. “I want to stop Jon as much as you do. Maybe more.”
Jemima watched him, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. She could see the pain in Alan’s eyes—the betrayal, the guilt—but could they afford to believe him?
Jay stepped forward, his gaze piercing. “Lead the way. But if this is a trap—”
“It’s not,” Alan interrupted, meeting Jay’s glare head-on. “I swear.”
“Enough,” Marcus said sharply. “We don’t have time for this. Let’s move.”
The group followed Alan through the winding corridors, their footsteps muffled but purposeful. Every creak and distant sound set their nerves on edge, the tension between them palpable.
As they walked, Jemima felt a familiar pull deep within her mind.
“You’re not fine, are you?"
The voice was cold and sharp, cutting through her thoughts like a blade. Jemima clenched her jaw, trying to push it away.
“Not now!” Jemima hissed, all eyes turning towards her. She smiled wryly and shook her head, trying to tell them that there was no cause for alarm.
The voice continued, “You think you’re strong enough for this? You’re going to get everyone killed."
“Shut up,” she whispered under her breath.
Jay glanced at her, his brow furrowing. “What?”
“Nothing,” Jemima replied quickly, forcing a tight smile. “I’m fine.” Jay looked at her warily, he knew she was lying but didn’t want to push it further.
The voice—the other part of her, Jemma—was growing louder, more insistent.
“You’re weak, Jem. Let me take over. I can handle this better than you can, please!”
“No,” Jemima hissed, her voice barely audible.
Jay squeezed her hand gently. “Stay with me, Jem,” he said, his voice low. He knew that she was fighting a battle in her head but he didn’t know how to help other than reassure her that he was there for her.
“I’m here,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure if it was entirely true.
Alan led them to a hidden staircase that descended into the maintenance tunnels. The air grew colder as they descended, the faint hum of machinery echoing through the narrow passage.
“This way,” Alan said, gesturing toward a rusted door at the end of the hall.
As they approached, Marcus held up a hand, signaling for silence. He pressed his ear against the door, listening intently. After a moment, he nodded and motioned for Alan to open it.
The room beyond was dimly lit, filled with pipes and electrical panels. It was cramped, but it offered a momentary reprieve from the chaos above.
“Alright,” Marcus said, turning to the group. “We regroup here and figure out our next move. Jon’s men will realize we’ve slipped away soon enough, so we need to act fast.”
Jay pulled Jemima into a corner, his expression serious. “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” he said quietly.
“I’m fine,” Jemima insisted, though her voice wavered.
Jay frowned, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I can see it, Jem. You’re not okay.”
Before she could respond, Marcus called out, “Alan. You said there’s a way out from here. Where does it lead?”
“There’s an exit that comes out near the docks,” Alan explained. “It’s not far, but it’s exposed. If Jon’s men are watching the area, we’ll have to move quickly.”
Vanessa crossed her arms, her gaze skeptical. “And what happens if we get ambushed again? We can’t keep running forever.”
“We’re not running,” Marcus said firmly. “We’re regrouping. Once we’re out of here, we’ll find a way to take Jon down for good.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Dimitri grunted as he leaned heavily against Vanessa, his injuries causing him unbearable pain.
“What was that?” Marcus flared up, the tension in the ambiance becoming palpable.
“You heard me. Every time we’re always regrouping, every time Jon is always a step ahead of us, every time you say to take him down for good when nothing else happens!” Dimitri was frustrated.
“You got a better plan?” Marcus barked, glaring at him squarely.
“Gentlemen!” Jay called out to still the rising tension.
Jemima leaned against the wall, her breathing shallow. She could feel Jemma’s presence growing stronger, clawing at the edges of her consciousness.
“You’re going to let them walk into another trap, aren’t you?" Jemma’s voice taunted.
“No,” Jemima whispered.
“Jem?” Jay’s voice brought her back to the present.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I’m fine,” she said again, but this time, even she didn’t believe it.
The group moved cautiously through the tunnels, their nerves frayed but their determination unshaken. As they neared the exit, Marcus held up a hand, signaling for them to stop.
“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll check it out.”
Jay immediately stepped forward. “I’ll go with you.”
Marcus nodded, and the two men disappeared through the door, leaving the rest of the group in tense silence.
Jemima leaned against the wall, her head pounding. She could feel Jemma pressing against her mind, the alter’s presence more forceful than ever.
“Let me take over, Jem. You’re going to get them all killed."
“No,” Jemima muttered, her hands shaking.
Vanessa noticed and frowned. “Jemima? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Jemima snapped, the sharpness in her tone surprising even herself.
Vanessa raised an eyebrow but said nothing, turning her attention back to Dimitri.
Alan, who had been silent for most of the journey, stepped closer to Jemima. “You don’t look fine,” he said quietly.
Jemima glared at him. “I don’t need your concern, Alan.”
He held up his hands defensively. “I’m just saying if you’re not up for this—”
“I’m fine,” Jemima repeated, her voice firm.
Before Alan could respond, the sound of gunfire erupted from outside.
“Get down!” Marcus’s voice shouted from the other side of the door.
The group scrambled for cover as bullets tore through the thin metal walls. Jay and Marcus burst back into the room, their weapons drawn.
“They found us,” Marcus said, his tone grim.
“Hold them off!” Jay shouted, firing a shot toward the doorway.
Jemima crouched behind a stack of crates, her heart pounding. The chaos around her was deafening, but inside her mind, it was worse.
“Let me take over, Jem. You can’t handle this, please.”
“No,” Jemima whispered, her hands trembling.
"You’re going to die if you don’t let me help."
Jemima closed her eyes, trying to block out the voice, but it was no use. She could feel Jemma pushing forward, the alter’s presence overwhelming.
“Jemima!” Jay’s voice cut through the noise. “Stay with me!”
But it was too late.
When Jemima opened her eyes again, they were darker, sharper. Her posture changed her grip on the gun steady and confident.
Jemma had taken over.
She rose from behind the crates, her movements swift and calculated. Without hesitation, she fired three precise shots, taking down two of Jon’s men.
“Jem?” Jay called his voice tinged with confusion and concern.
Jemma turned to him, a smirk playing on her lips. “Not quite,” she said, her tone colder than usual.
Jay’s eyes widened in realization. “Jemma.”
“Relax,” she said, reloading the gun with practiced ease. “I’m here to help.”
Marcus noticed the shift as well but didn’t have time to question it. “Whoever you are, keep shooting!”
Jemma didn’t need to be told twice. She moved with deadly precision, her shots hitting their marks every time. The group could only watch in stunned silence as she turned the tide of the battle.
But as the last of Jon’s men fell, Jemma turned to the group, her dark gaze lingering on each of them.
“This isn’t over,” she said, her voice dripping with menace.
And then, just as suddenly as she had appeared, Jemma was gone. Jemima collapsed to the ground, her breathing ragged.
Jay was at her side in an instant. “Jem?”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear. “What happened?”
Jay hesitated, his heart sinking. “We need to get you back to the hospital Stat!”
But there was no time. Outside, the sound of reinforcements approaching signaled that the fight was far from over.