Chapter 34
Emily Windsor's POV
Why I became a lawyer had never been clearer than in this moment.
Jade stared at me, tears streaming down her face.
She knew she couldn't change my mind.
After a long silence, she released my arm and roughly wiped her face with the back of her hand. The panic in her reddened eyes faded, replaced by a reckless determination.
"Fine," she said. "I'm coming with you."
"Absolutely not!" I refused immediately. "It's too dangerous. This has nothing to do with you."
"What do you mean it has nothing to do with me?" Jade's emotions flared again. "That report was my work, my blood and sweat. David turned it into a dirty bargaining chip. I want it back even more than you do. And I know Preston District. You go alone, and within twenty-four hours, they'll eat you alive!"
She took a deep breath, her tone brooking no argument. "Emily, I'm not asking. Either we go together, or you'll have to knock me unconscious right now. Otherwise, I'm following you no matter what."
Looking at her stubborn face, I found myself speechless.
The pain of betrayal seemed to have transformed her overnight from a girl who needed protecting into a warrior ready to fight beside me.
In the end, I couldn't win the argument.
Over the next few hours, my office became our makeshift war room.
I organized case files while Jade threw herself into acquiring self-defense equipment with military precision.
She ordered industrial-strength pepper spray online, two personal alarms that could emit ear-piercing shrieks, and even procured a stun gun disguised as a lipstick tube.
Watching her pack these items one by one into her backpack, muttering instructions on their use, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"We're lawyers going to investigate and gather evidence, not special ops preparing for urban combat," I reminded her helplessly.
"Better safe than sorry!" She shot me a look and pressed the stun gun into my hand. "Take this. Remember—aim for vulnerable spots like the neck or abdomen!"
The day we left, I thought I'd prepared for everything.
But when I arrived at the airport, dragging my suitcase, I stood frozen, stunned by what I saw.
Jade was already there, standing beside a suitcase even larger than mine and a backpack stuffed to bursting.
When she spotted me, she rushed over like a worried mother hen and took my passport and ID without asking. "I already checked us in. We're just waiting for you. Come on, we're cutting it close."
She pushed me forward. I watched her efficient movements with a mixture of exasperation and affection.
Fine then.
Maybe I'd never been fighting alone after all.
We walked side by side down the long jetway and boarded the plane.
As the aircraft broke through the clouds, leaving New York's constellation of lights far behind, I turned to look at Jade beside me.
She was gripping my hand tightly, her palm slick with nervous sweat, but her eyes were remarkably steady.
"Emily," she said softly, staring into the boundless darkness outside the window. "Don't be scared."
I smiled and squeezed her hand back.
Right. Don't be scared.
The plane touched down at a pathetically small airport on the edge of Preston District.
The moment the cabin door opened, an indescribable stench rushed in like an invading army.
I instinctively held my breath, my stomach churning.
Jade's reaction was even more severe—she doubled over, dry-heaving twice, her face turning deathly pale.
Stepping out of the shabby terminal, the full brutality of Preston District revealed itself.
The sky hung gray and oppressive, as if shrouded in a permanent layer of industrial smog that could never be washed away.
Buildings along the streets stood in various states of decay, walls covered in chaotic graffiti, windows mostly boarded up with plywood.
On street corners, skeletal homeless people huddled in filthy sleeping bags, their eyes vacant and hollow. Further down, several junkies leaned against walls, swaying to invisible rhythms, faces twisted in eerie, blissful grins.
Jade and I dragged our suitcases through this landscape of ruin, standing out like sore thumbs.
Our cleanliness and composure were like beacons in the dark, instantly attracting predatory stares.
"Hey there, ladies. Just get in?" A man in a greasy jacket sidled up, flashing yellowed teeth as he held up a string of garish beads. "Buy a good luck charm? This place is cursed. You'll need protection."
"Don't listen to him, ladies." Another thin, tall man pushed forward, clutching small bottles filled with murky liquid. "I've got miracle cures here. Treat anything. Way cheaper than the hospital!"
More and more people crowded around us, hawking bizarre wares. They formed a suffocating circle, their eyes gleaming with greed and malice. I gripped my suitcase handle tighter, cold sweat breaking out across my back.
Just as my mind went blank, unsure how to respond, Jade yanked me behind her.
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and channeled some movie character with a voice she forced to sound tough and threatening. "Back off! Keep crowding us, and you'll regret it! Get lost!"
Her voice trembled with nerves, the bravado almost comical, but the sheer reckless determination behind it actually gave pause to people accustomed to weakness and submission.
The crowd fell silent for a heartbeat.
The man with the lucky charms looked Jade up and down, then glanced at me, seemingly reassessing our worth.
He finally spat on the ground with clear resentment and backed away, cursing under his breath.
With one person retreating, the others reluctantly dispersed, searching for easier prey.
Crisis averted, Jade's rigid posture collapsed. She leaned against me, gasping for air, her face even paler than before.
I steadied her, my own heart still racing with residual fear.
"Thank God you were here."
Jade forced a weak smile. "Just improvising. I nearly peed myself."
We didn't dare linger on the street. We hailed a cab that looked marginally roadworthy.
The driver was a taciturn Black man. He glanced at us in the rearview mirror, asked no questions, and hit the gas. The car began bouncing over potholed roads.
Outside the window, the scenery became a moving exhibition of despair.
The closer we got to the chemical plant, the stronger the acrid smell in the air grew, making my head throb.
The river running alongside the road had turned a disturbing rust-red, its surface covered in white foam and dead fish. I even saw children playing near this toxic waterway, poking at reeking garbage with sticks.
My heart sank deeper with each passing moment.
This was the hell on earth Kingsley Chemical had created.
All those cold statistics and reports Luke had given me now transformed into one horrifying, tangible scene after another before my eyes.