Chapter 8 A LOST BATTLE, A STORMING ANGER
"We can settle this amicably. I just need to get her out of here," I said to them, but it felt like I was talking to myself.
They all came at me, sending kicks and punches from every direction.
I coiled Emmy to myself, using my body as a shield to protect her.
Every strike sent waves of pain through me, but my only concern was keeping her safe.
Still, they kept hitting me until I was down-lying on the cold floor, hugging Emmy's fragile figure to my chest, praying for a miracle.
The blows continued a while longer... before finally stopping.
I gasped for air, like I hadn't breathed properly in hours, struggling to push myself back to my knees.
"Isn't he one brave hero?" I heard one of them sneer, and the others burst into laughter.
My arms trembled as I lifted myself upright and immediately looked down at Emmy, still tightly tied to my body.
Thankfully, she hadn't taken any of the hits.
But when I touched her hand-it was cold. Ice cold.
Panic surged through me.
I pressed my fingers to her wrist, searching for a pulse... but there was none.
A breath caught in my chest as I forced myself up.
"I think you should stay down, dude," another voice said behind me.
But I couldn't. I wouldn't.
I had to get Emmy out of here. I promised her. I promised her mom.
I was halfway to my feet when something hard struck the back of my head.
The impact sent me crashing back to my knees.
A loud ringing filled my ears, and for a moment it felt like my brain had frozen.
"If you're told to stay down, then stay the fck down!" a distant voice thundered.
Dazed, I fought to keep my now-heavy eyes open.
That was when I felt it-a warm liquid trickling down my face, dripping onto the bedcover that held Emmy to my chest.
Footsteps echoed toward me.
Then, the shadow of long legs stopped in front of me.
The man crouched to my level, face inches from mine.
Even through my blurry vision, I recognized him-the man who abducted me as a child.
"You know, I wonder if you can take another strike of this," he said with a twisted grin, spinning the bat in his hand like it was a game.
But my mind was only on one thing-someone has to take Emmy to the hospital. Now.
"Hey man, I don't think that's a good idea," another voice said behind him.
"The boss told us to have fun, not kill him. Let's just go before the cops get here."
"No fckng way I'm letting this rich little bstrd walk away again. Do you know what I went through with the boss after I lost him?
Sixteen fckng years and I'm still paying for it.
Now that he's some big public figure, we can't even kill him."
He paused, sneering down at me.
"He should've died alongside his mother that night."
My breath hitched.
So I was right... all along.
The accident wasn't just a tragedy-it was intentional.
"We're moving out. Take your fckng complaints to the boss," the voice from earlier snapped, firmer this time.
The guy in front of me groaned, cursing under his breath.
"Fck!" he barked, then turned his eyes back to me.
I stared up at him, burning every line of his face into my memory.
If I survive this... I will find him.
And I will end him-in the worst way possible.
He dropped the bat with a thud, spinning away.
But I wasn't done.
I lifted my hand, fingers trembling as I grabbed his pants.
Raising my head, I forced the words past my lips.
"Who... ordered... the hit?"
He laughed. A low, twisted laugh that made my already throbbing ears buzz in anger.
Then, without warning, he kicked me again-straight in the head.
Everything went black as I collapsed to the side, Emmy still clutched tightly to my chest.
I couldn't move.
I just lay there in pain, my head throbbing like it had been crushed, my ears ringing like a blaring siren.
As I began drifting into the darkness clawing at the edges of my mind, my eyes fell on Emmy's face-now smeared with my blood.
That was the last thing I saw as I slowly slipped into unconsciousness.
\---
Troy's POV
I couldn't focus on anything after Jaxon's last call.
The silence that followed gnawed at me until I finally did the one thing he asked me not to-I called the boss.
It was a desperate move, but I had no choice.
He agreed to help, promising to call Mr. Falcone and let both Jaxon and Emmy leave the building safely.
But the seconds dragged into minutes, and the minutes stretched to nearly an hour.
My nerves were on fire, my body unable to stay still.
When I couldn't take it anymore, I called 911-explained Emmy's medical situation-and then I called the police.
It wasn't long before I saw Falcone's men trickling out of the building, spreading out across the street.
The ambulance pulled in almost immediately, followed closely by the flashing lights of the police cars.
I didn't wait for instructions.
Without any explanation, I dashed into the building, my heart pounding violently in my chest.
I ran through the empty ground floor, shouting-
"Jaxon!"
Panic surged through me as I searched frantically for the elevator.
I finally spotted it and rushed toward it, but the moment my eyes fell on what lay on the floor, my legs nearly gave out beneath me.
Jaxon was lying in a pool of his own blood.
Unmoving.
"Oh my God! We need backup over here!" shouted the officer who had followed me in.
His voice blared from his walkie-talkie, snapping me out of the frozen shock I was in.
He was already at Jaxon's side while I stood there, paralyzed, until I heard him say-
"He's breathing. I need your help getting the girl away from him."
That jolted me.
I ran over, trying to steady my hands and heart.
We carefully loosened the bedcover wrapped around Emmy's small body.
As we lifted her, the paramedics rushed in, their voices sharp with urgency as they called out medical codes.
I followed after them quickly, my gaze fixed on Emmy-because if Jaxon had gone through all that just to protect her...
Then the least I could do now was make sure she stayed safe.
She was immediately put on oxygen, but I could see the team exchanging worried glances-faces filled with hopelessness.
After several desperate attempts, Emmy was confirmed dead on the spot.
My heart shattered into a million pieces as I stared at her tiny frame, her pale face slowly being covered.
This wasn't right.
She didn't deserve any of this.
The team then turned to Jaxon, whose head injury was far worse than I'd thought.
Blood still poured out as they scrambled to stop the bleeding.
The ambulance carrying Emmy was the first to leave.
I followed close behind the one carrying Jaxon, straight to the hospital, where he was rushed into surgery.
I waited in the waiting room, my hands shaking as I whispered prayers under my breath.
When the surgery ended, I was called into the doctor's office-and it felt like I was being dragged into another nightmare.
Even though the surgery was successful, the doctor explained that the impact to Jaxon's head-especially with the old injury he sustained as a kid-could have serious consequences.
"I can't determine how much damage has been done to his brain until he wakes up," the doctor said grimly.
"His records show he was strongly warned never to suffer another serious head injury. For now, all we can do is wait."
I left the office feeling completely numb.
As the days dragged on, Jaxon showed no signs of waking.
Eventually, he slipped into a coma.
I requested an autopsy on Emmy's body before laying her to rest beside her mother a week later.
The results confirmed what I feared-there had been a potent drug in her system.
Something that had triggered the heart attack.
Something that killed her.
On the day of the burial, no one showed up.
It was just me and the burial organizer.
That made everything feel worse-emptier.
Jaxon was never going to forgive himself for this.
I stayed by his side, lying to his father that he was away on a work trip.
I didn't know how long I could keep the lie going.
Two weeks had already passed since the coma started, and still, no change.
I was exhausted. Broken.
And I blamed our boss for everything.
He was a man who cared about nothing but himself.
Each one of us owed him something-some unspoken debt.
He saved Jaxon's life, just like he saved mine, and left us chained to him, unsure of when or how it would end.
He was the perfect definition of the devil.
By the third week, I had lost all hope.
I even considered going to Jaxon's father-to finally come clean about everything: the life his son had hidden from him, the truth about his mother's death, and the fight that led to all of this.
But just as I closed up from work, ready to head to his father's place, I received a call from the hospital.
Jaxon was awake.
I rushed over, my heart racing.
When I got there, his doctor was standing outside his room.
"Tell me he's fine," I said, clinging to the last ounce of hope in my voice.
"He's fine-actually, he's doing better than expected," the doctor replied.
"Apart from not remembering much of what happened before the injury, he's responding well to treatment."
He patted my shoulder gently and walked away.
I stepped into the room and found Jaxon standing by the window, staring out blankly.
"Jaxon," I called softly.
He turned to face me.
"Are you okay, buddy?" I asked, waiting.
"I'm fine," he replied. "Apart from feeling a little dizzy, I think I'm good."
I walked over and hugged him tightly.
"I'm so glad you're okay," I said as I pulled away.
"I'm fine, Troy. I just need you to tell me what happened to Emmy. Tell me she's alright. Tell me she got her transplant and the surgery was a success."
His voice cracked as he spoke-pleading, desperate.
I was hoping he wouldn't remember that part.
But he did.
"I'm sorry, Jaxon. She was already gone before help arrived."
Something in his eyes died at that moment.
His jaw clenched, his face hardened.
"When am I getting discharged?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said gently.
"The doctor said your memory's still fuzzy and they need to observe you for a while."
"I don't have time to recover lost memories. I remember enough, Troy. I want to be discharged by the end of today. I'm going to find Falcone and h
is men and make them pay."
He turned back to the window, fists clenched.
I knew right then... there was no way he was going to let this go.
And that was how our search for Falcone and his men began.
But who were we kidding?
Falcone had already fled the country-with every last one of them.