Chapter 12
The morning after the storm, a heavy mist clung to the town like a secret unwilling to let go. Jessy stood at the window, watching the fog curl along the pavement like smoke, her arms wrapped tightly around her body. The house was too quiet, even with Rocky snoring gently at her feet. Dave had left just before dawn, promising to return by nightfall, leaving behind a silence that pressed on her chest.
She traced a finger along the windowpane, eyes scanning the street. The Sebastiano house loomed across from hers, as foreboding as ever, its dark windows like watching eyes. Marco hadn't been seen in days, but the dread of his presence clung to the air.
Her phone vibrated on the counter. A text.
Unknown Number:
You think you're safe? You're not. Watch your back, Jessy.
Her heart skipped a beat. She stared at the message, a chill settling in her bones. No name. No number. Just a warning. Jessy locked the phone and stepped away, her breath catching. Was it Marco? One of his people? Or someone else entirely?
Before she could spiral further, a knock at the door startled her. She moved cautiously, peering through the peephole. Maura.
Relief flooded her as she opened the door.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Maura said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. She glanced around, her sharp eyes sweeping the room. "You get a message?"
Jessy nodded, holding up her phone. Maura took it, frowning at the screen.
"They're watching you," she muttered. "That much is clear. Marco's scared. Desperate, maybe. He wouldn't lash out unless he felt cornered."
"Dave thinks he's planning something," Jessy said quietly. "Something big."
Maura nodded grimly. "He's not wrong. I've been hearing whispers. Things moving in the dark. Jessy… you need to be ready. He's going to come for you."
Jessy's hand instinctively rested on her belly. "I won't let him take anything from me. Not again."
Maura stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Then we'll fight. But you can't do it alone."
The day passed slowly, the minutes dragging by under the weight of tension. Jessy packed a small bag — just in case. She kept her phone close, checking for updates from Dave, but there was nothing. No calls. No messages.
When night finally fell, unease crawled beneath her skin. Dave still hadn't returned.
She sat on the porch, Rocky at her feet, eyes fixed on the road. The fog had thickened again, the streetlights casting pale halos that barely pierced the dark. Every shadow looked like a figure waiting to strike.
Then, headlights. A car pulled into her driveway.
Jessy stood quickly, heart in her throat, until the door opened and Dave stepped out. Relief hit her like a wave.
"I was beginning to think something happened," she said as he approached.
"I had to move carefully," he said, voice low. "Marco's men are watching the roads. I think he knows I'm planning something."
Inside, Jessy led him to the living room, where the fire crackled softly. Dave looked exhausted—shadows under his eyes, his shoulders tense.
"I found something," he said, pulling out a folded paper from his jacket. "It's a shipment schedule. Weapons. Cash. A drop Marco has planned in two days. If we intercept it, we'll hit him where it hurts."
Jessy took the paper, scanning it. "And you're sure this will work?"
"It'll cripple his operation. Maybe even force him into the open." Dave leaned forward, eyes burning with resolve. "But we'll need help. I can't do it alone."
Maura, who had stayed quietly in the corner, stepped forward. "I'll gather some people. Old friends. Ones Marco forgot."
Jessy looked between them, the tension thick in the room. "What do you need me to do?"
Dave's gaze softened as he looked at her. "Stay safe. Stay ready. And trust me."
Jessy nodded. "I do."
The next day was a blur of quiet preparation. Dave made calls using burner phones, arranging for vehicles, weapons, safe houses. Maura disappeared for hours at a time, only to return with grim-faced allies Jessy didn't recognize.
And Jessy… she waited. She walked the house, double-checked locks, practiced calming her breath when panic threatened to rise. She kept her bag packed, her flashlight charged, and a knife tucked into the drawer beside her bed.
By the time night fell again, the quiet had sharpened into something electric. Something dangerous.
Dave sat with her on the porch, the two of them cloaked in silence. The stars blinked faintly above, distant and indifferent.
"I never wanted this life," he said after a while. "Not the blood, not the fear. I wanted to build something better."
"You still can," Jessy whispered. "With me. With the baby."
He looked at her then, something raw and unguarded flickering in his eyes. "That's all I want."
Suddenly, the crack of footsteps interrupted the stillness. Dave stood in a flash, pulling a weapon from his waistband. Jessy rose too, heart pounding.
Out of the shadows, a figure appeared.
Marco.
He walked slowly, deliberately, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. "You always were the soft one, Dave. Never had the stomach for what needed to be done."
Jessy stepped back as Dave moved to shield her.
"What do you want, Marco?" Dave growled.
"To finish what should've been done long ago. You betrayed me. You chose her. And now…" Marco's eyes shifted to Jessy's belly. "Now you're risking everything for a child that'll destroy us."
Jessy clenched her fists. "This child has nothing to do with your twisted legacy."
Marco laughed coldly. "You have no idea what that child carries. The blood. The power."
Dave raised the gun. "Get off this property, Marco. While you still can."
Marco tilted his head. "You won't shoot me. You never could."
"Try me," Dave said.
For a moment, time froze.
Then, movement. Quick, sharp. Marco's hand reached for something — a weapon, a signal — but before he could finish, headlights blazed from the street. Maura's car.
Backup.
Marco cursed and retreated into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as he came.
Dave lowered the gun slowly, his breathing ragged.
Jessy's hand found his. "He's not going to stop."
"No," Dave agreed. "But neither will we."
The war had truly begun. And the Sebastiano legacy was about to be rewritten — with blood, with fire, and maybe… with redemption.
Dave didn't sleep that night. He stood by the window, watching the shadows dance along the tree line, his grip tight around the gun he refused to put down. Jessy lay curled on the couch, pretending to rest, but her eyes stayed open, fixed on the flames flickering in the fireplace.
Every creak of the house made them flinch. Every distant car, every whisper of wind, carried the weight of potential danger. They both knew this was only the beginning.
Maura checked in twice before dawn, signaling from the front porch before vanishing back into the darkness. "We've got eyes on the road," she'd whispered. "But Marco's clever. He'll come when we least expect it."
Dave finally sat beside Jessy as the sky began to lighten, fatigue etched deep in his features. He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together.
"I'm not losing you," he said, voice hoarse. "Not now. Not ever."
Jessy looked at him, her heart thudding heavy in her chest. "Then we fight. Together."
Outside, the fog began to lift, revealing the road ahead. Danger loomed, closer than ever. But so did hope — fragile, but still burning.
They wouldn't run.
They would rise.