Chapter 7 FIGHTING FOR EMMY
Jaxon – POV
"Jaxon, this is a bad idea. It's already obvious that these people are trying to riot you in with Emmy. There has to be another way to get into that building without them knowing," Troy said for the second time since we dropped by Mr. Falcone's dorm.
"I'm not going to risk more lives on this. It's obvious they're on me for a reason, and I also want to find out why," I said as I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt, ready to leave.
"Jaxon, wait," Troy said, grabbing my hand.
"Let's try talking to the boss. He might change his mind if we promise him one or two things. That way, you and Emmy will both be safe."
I knew Troy was worried, but it was already clear-we were on this alone.
"He's not going to help us. The sooner you believe that, the better for us. Emmy's mum owes him, and you know how he is about that. He literally sold her out to those monsters who ended her life. And I'm afraid he didn't just do that to Emmy's mum, but to Emmy as well. He sold them both to get the money Emmy's mum couldn't pay."
I paused, my voice tightening with every word.
The thought of Emmy's tiny frame, lying helpless in that hospital bed, filled me with dread.
"I need to get Emmy back to the hospital. She needs to be strong for that surgery tomorrow. Her mother sacrificed her life, and I am not about to let them take hers too. She's only five. She doesn't deserve any of this."
With that, I pushed the door open, ready to leave.
"And don't follow me in. Don't even call the boss, no matter what. He's just going to use the situation against us, just like he always has."
I immediately made my way into the building, the two men at the door letting me inside without a word.
As I walked into the wide hall floor, filled with thugs who had this killer look in their eyes, a strange chill settled in my chest.
Mr. Falcone sat like a king on the couch, right in the middle of the room, soaking in every bit of power that surrounded him.
"Wow, look who decided to join us. If it isn't Mr. Hunter's favorite son," he said, his voice teasing, but his eyes held something else-something I couldn't quite define.
"Where is Emmy?" I asked. I wasn't here to listen to a grown-ss man crack jokes.
"You're in a rush. Why don't you sit down for a bit and have one or two shots with us?" he said.
With a simple gesture, one of his men left and returned with a bottle of strong drink and two shots.
He placed them in front of Mr. Falcone, who calmly poured the drinks.
Mr. Falcone took one as the other glass was brought to me.
But I knew better.
Here in the underworld, when your enemy serves you a drink, they either want to settle things with you-or have you standing beside them.
"Do you desperately want me as one of your own?" I asked, shifting my gaze from the huge figure looming in front of me to the shot of drink in his hand, then back to Mr. Falcone.
"You can say that. I still can't believe you're the same fragile kid I was supposed to eliminate sixteen years ago-before Hunter ambushed my men and stole you away."
His words were calm, casual, but their weight nearly knocked the air from my lungs.
So he was involved in my kidnapping. At twelve.
And now he said it like it meant nothing.
Anger flared inside me, violent and hot, but I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm.
"So I was right all along," I muttered, loud enough for him to hear.
The truth tasted bitter on my tongue.
I took the drink from the guy standing beside me and began walking toward Mr. Falcone, but his men stepped in, blocking my path like stone pillars.
"Guys, relax. I'm sure he's not gonna bite," Falcone said with a smirk.
They stepped aside immediately.
I reached the table, dropped the shot in front of him, and pushed it back.
I didn't take a sip. I wasn't here to toast with the devil.
"I'm here to get Emmy," I said flatly.
But he laughed-loud, amused, like I'd told him the punchline to a good joke.
"He wants Emmy! Alright then, take him to her. I have no use for her anyway," he waved lazily.
His words made my fists clench.
No use for her.
Like she was trash-something you toss once it's no longer shiny.
It took everything in me not to lose it right there.
But one wrong move in this place would get me killed before I could even touch the door.
So I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and turned, following the man in front of me.
But out of the corner of my eye, I caught it-Mr. Falcone giving a silent signal to the guy beside him.
I didn't know what it meant, but my stomach tightened.
I followed the man upstairs to the first floor.
He led me down a hallway and into a room.
Without a word, he stepped aside.
And there she was-Emmy.
Lying on the bed. Unmoving.
My heart dropped.
I rushed to her side, dropping to my knees as panic ripped through me.
I looked for any signs of injury, but all I saw were her tiny hands clinging tightly to the bed cover, clenched like she was fighting something in her sleep.
But no, she wasn't sleeping at all.
I leaned closer, grabbing her hand.
Please... please be okay.
I pressed two fingers to her neck and held my breath.
There. A pulse.
But it was faint-terrifyingly faint.
"She had a heart attack! Call 911!" I yelled at the man standing by the door.
He didn't move.
Instead, he turned and stepped out, locking the door behind him.
I gasped, stunned.
For a second, I couldn't move.
Then Mr. Falcone's voice echoed in my head.
"I have no use for her anyway."
He knew.
They all knew.
They left her here. To die.
Rage exploded inside me like a bomb.
My hands shook as I fumbled for my phone and dialed.
"Jaxon? Are you okay?" Troy answered immediately, concern bleeding through his voice.
I couldn't speak. My throat closed.
"Call 911," I forced out. "Any medical line. Emmy... she's not breathing."
There was a pause, then Troy's voice came firm and focused.
"Jaxon, I need you to listen to me. Emmy is going to be okay. Now focus on getting her out. I'm sending a backup. It seems we're not alone after all."
His last words hung in the air, confusing, but I couldn't ask what he meant or who was coming.
I ended the call.
No more time.
I scooped Emmy's fragile body into my arms.
She felt weightless-too still.
I grabbed the bedcover, wrapped it tightly around her, and tied it to my chest to secure her.
I held her close-like my life depended on it.
Then I walked to the locked door.
I didn't hesitate.
My fists flew at the wooden door, pounding again and again until it cracked open-just enough for my hand to slip through.
I reached around and unlocked it from the outside.
I stepped into the hallway, and there they were-two of Falcone's men, each gripping a baseball bat like they couldn't wait to use it.
I glanced down at Emmy, making sure she was still secure against my chest, her breath barely there.
I took a deep breath, pushed forward.
My only thought was getting her out.
The first guy came at me, smirking, swinging the bat lazily like he was toying with me. Like I was nothing. Weak. A joke.
But he left his guard down.
Without hesitation, I slipped a hand into my pocket, sliding on the brass knuckles-the only weapon I had on me.
As he lunged, raising the bat high to bring it down on me, I ducked low.
The bat whooshed over my head.
I didn't waste the chance.
I drove my fist into his side ribs, the metal biting into him with brutal force.
He crumpled, dropping to the ground, groaning in pain as he held his side.
Before I could catch a breath, the second guy charged.
His bat sliced through the air, aiming for my head.
I backed away, dodging his attacks, watching as he knocked over chairs and shattered glass-losing energy with every swing.
He was burning out.
I waited-counted his movements-until he finally came at me with a tired, desperate strike.
His muscles were slow, worn.
I moved fast, kicked the bat from his hands, then slammed my fists into his ribs-once, twice.
He let out a sharp cry as he dropped to the ground beside the first one.
That was two down.
But I couldn't waste time.
My hands ached, my breathing was rough, and Emmy... she was turning pale.
Too pale.
I turned and ran for the elevator, stepping inside.
As the doors slid shut, I stared down at her fragile face, willing her to hold on.
Just hold on.
The doors opened on the ground floor.
And I froze.
More men. At least eight.
They didn't have weapons-but they didn't need them.
They started to circle me, slow and deliberate.
Eight against one.
I was outnumbered. I was exhausted. I was bleeding.
But I wasn't going down without a fight.
Not with Emmy in my arms.