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Chapter 33 - the war

MARRY YOUR KILLER

Chapter Thirty-Two: The War

---

The call came at midnight.

Jay was in the study, the map spread across the desk, the pieces of the torn contract still on the floor. Keifer was beside her, his hand on her back, his face turned toward the window. Keiran was asleep. Keigan was in his room.

Her phone buzzed. Freya's name flashed on the screen.

"Warehouse," Freya said. "Your uncle. He's moving the weapons."

Jay was already standing. "Where?"

"Navotas. The same warehouse. He's clearing everything out."

Jay looked at Keifer. His face had gone still.

"How many?" Jay asked.

"Too many. Twenty. Maybe more."

Jay grabbed her jacket. Her knife. Her gun. Keifer was already moving, already calling Percy, already waking the house.

"Don't," Jay said.

He stopped.

"This is my war," she said. "My uncle. My family. I have to do this alone."

He walked to her. He took her face in his hands. His eyes were steady.

"You're not alone," he said. "You've never been alone."

He kissed her forehead. He let her go.

She walked out the door.

---

The warehouse was lit up when Jay arrived.

Freya was waiting at the gate, her face sharp, her gun drawn. Rakki was beside her, her chaos banked into something cold. Mica was in the van, her laptop open, her voice calm in Jay's ear. Ella was at the back, her hands steady, her face pale. Lyra was in the shadows, her knife in her hand, her face blank. Care was at the entrance, her medical bag open, her hands ready. Grace was beside her, her fists up, her eyes scanning.

Ci N was there. Felix was beside him.

Jay looked at them. Her family. Her army.

"This is my war," she said. "If you want to leave, leave now."

No one moved.

She turned to the warehouse. "Then let's end it."

---

The doors opened.

Her uncle was standing in the center of the warehouse, the crates around him, the weapons inside. His face was calm. His hands were empty.

"Jasper Jean," he said. "My favorite niece."

Jay walked toward him. Her gun was at her side. Her knife was in her hand.

"You tried to kill me," she said.

He smiled. It was the smile of a man who had been waiting for this moment his whole life.

"I tried to save you," he said. "From yourself. From the Watsons. From the war."

She stopped in front of him. Her face was calm. Her eyes were not.

"You started the war," she said. "You killed our family. You killed our cousins. You killed our friends. You've been lying to us for thirty years."

His smile didn't waver. "I've been protecting us."

She raised her gun. "You've been protecting yourself."

The lights went out.

---

The warehouse went dark.

Gunfire erupted from the shadows. Jay dropped to the ground. Her uncle was gone. The crates were everywhere. The men were everywhere.

Freya was shouting. Rakki was firing. Mica's voice was gone from her ear. The van was too far, the walls too thick, the signal too weak.

Jay crawled through the dark. Her knife was in her hand. Her gun was empty.

She heard a scream. Ci N's voice. She ran.

He was on the ground, his face pale, his hands covered in blood. Felix was beside him, his hands pressing against Ci N's chest, his voice low, steady, telling him to stay awake.

Jay dropped beside him. Her hands pressed against his. The blood was warm. It was everywhere.

"Ci N," she said. "Ci N, look at me."

His eyes opened. Just a slit. Just enough.

"Jay," he whispered.

"You're going to be okay."

He smiled. It was small. Tired. Real.

"I know," he said.

A man lunged at her. She moved. Her knife found his throat. He fell.

Another man. Another. Another.

She lost count.

---

Lyra was in the center of the warehouse.

Her knife was moving. Her body was moving. She was a machine, a weapon, something her father had built and her mother had abandoned. Men fell around her. She didn't stop.

She didn't see the man behind her.

The knife went into her side. She felt it. Cold. Sharp. She turned. Her knife found his throat. He fell. She pulled the knife from her side. The blood was warm. It was everywhere.

She kept moving.

---

Care was at the entrance.

Grace was beside her, her fists bloody, her face hard. The men kept coming. Grace kept fighting. Care pulled Ci N to the van, her hands pressing against his chest, her voice low, steady, telling him to stay awake.

She didn't see the man coming from the side.

The knife went into her arm. She screamed. Grace turned. The man fell. Care looked at her arm. The knife was still there. The blood was warm. It was everywhere.

She pulled it out. She kept working.

---

Freya was at the back of the warehouse.

The men were everywhere. She took them down, one by one, her knife moving, her body moving. She was a weapon. She had always been a weapon.

She didn't see the man behind her.

The knife went into her shoulder. She turned. Her knife found his throat. He fell. She pulled the knife from her shoulder. The blood was warm. It was everywhere.

She kept fighting.

---

Jay found her uncle at the back of the warehouse.

He was standing by the door, his hands empty, his face calm. The crates were behind him. The weapons were inside. The war was almost over.

"Jasper Jean," he said. "You're bleeding."

She was. The blood was running down her side, her arm, her face. She didn't feel it.

"You killed them," she said. "You killed our family. You killed our cousins. You killed our friends. You've been lying to us for thirty years."

He smiled. It was the smile of a man who had already won.

"I did what I had to do," he said. "To protect us. To protect our family."

She raised her knife. "You're not my family."

He moved. Fast. His knife was in his hand. It went into her side. She felt it. Cold. Sharp. She didn't fall.

She pulled her knife up. It went into his chest.

He looked at her. His eyes were wide. His mouth was open.

"Jasper," he said.

She pushed the knife deeper. "You should have stayed dead."

He fell. The door was behind him. The night was open.

Jay stood over him. The blood was running down her side. Her hands were red. Her face was calm.

She walked out the door.

---

The warehouse was quiet when the sun rose.

The men were down. The weapons were seized. The war was over.

Jay sat on the steps outside, her hands in her lap, her face turned toward the sky. Her side was bleeding. Her arm was bleeding. Her face was bleeding. She didn't feel it.

Ci N was in the van, Care beside him, her arm bandaged, her hands steady. Freya was beside them, her shoulder wrapped, her face pale. Lyra was in the corner, her side bandaged, her eyes closed. Grace was standing guard, her fists still bloody, her face hard.

Felix was holding Ci N's hand.

Jay looked at her hands. They were red. They were always red.

A car pulled up. Keifer got out.

He ran to her. He fell to his knees in front of her. His hands were on her face. His eyes were wide.

"Jay," he said. "Jay."

She looked at him. His face was blurry. She blinked.

"I'm okay," she said.

He pressed his hands against her side. The blood was warm. It was everywhere.

"You're not okay," he said. "You're not okay."

She smiled. It was small. Tired. Real.

"I'm okay," she said again.

Her eyes closed.

---

END OF CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

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