Chapter 9 - Cleansing the Fire
The scaffolding groaned under the impact, several heavy iron pipes breaking loose and crashing to the floor with a deafening, metallic roar.
Vance struggled to his feet, his face covered in concrete dust and blood, his breathing ragged. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the small, black remote detonator.
"You think you’ve won, Jackson?" Vance sneered, his finger hovering over the button. "I’ll see you in hell."
"Alistair, don't!" Jasmine’s voice suddenly rang out from the entrance of the gym.
Vance spun around, startled.
Jasmine stood on the other side of the iron grating, holding a high-frequency signal jammer—the device Marcus had built to protect the estate's servers.
"The signal is jammed, Alistair," Jasmine said, her voice incredibly calm and steady. "The detonator is dead. The police are already surrounding the block. It’s over."
Vance looked down at the detonator. The small red light on the device had turned to a solid, powerless gray.
With a feral snarl of defeat, Vance lunged toward the iron grating, aiming to grab Jasmine through the bars.
But Jackson was already there.
He grabbed Vance from behind, throwing him to the concrete floor, pinning his arms behind his back with an unyielding, powerful grip as the sound of distant sirens began to fill the wet night air.
Marcus let out a long, shaky breath, leaning his head back against the chair. "Nice timing, Mrs. Ford."
Jasmine ran to the grating, her hand reaching through the bars to touch Jackson’s face. "Are you okay?"
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Jackson looked up at her, his eyes filled with a brilliant, peaceful light despite the blood on his arm. He leaned his forehead against her hand, a soft, beautiful smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.
"I’m okay, Jasmine," Jackson whispered, his deep voice warm and steady. "The rescue is complete. The shadows are gone."
