CHAPTER 160: THE NEW AWAKENING THREAT

Smoke.

Pain.

Silence.

Then...

A sudden gasp, sharp and wet, tore from Emma’s throat as she blinked her eyes open. Blood trickled into one of them. Her ears rang like a church bell struck too hard, too close.

She was upside down.

Disoriented from the crash.

Hanging from her seatbelt, the world a twisted mess of broken glass, metal, and the smell of gasoline.

No no no! The car’s going to blow...

Her instinct roared louder than the agony. With trembling fingers slick with blood, she fumbled at the belt. It released with a click, and she fell hard onto the roof of the crushed car.

"Jean," she rasped, dragging her shattered body toward the cracked side window, every movement screaming.

The first blast of heat came behind her.

Her lungs burned. Her vision swam. But she crawled... she crawled out through a jagged gap in the door, cutting her thigh open, but she didn’t care.

Keep going. You can’t die. Not now. Not before she knows the truth...

She tumbled onto the wet grass, rolling down a slope. Then the car exploded behind her... a thunderous roar that lit up the rainy sky like fireworks.

Bushes and rocks flew overhead. She covered her head with her arms as the flames kissed the clouds.

And then, silence again.

Except this time, it was deeper.

Heavier. A sense of relief washed over her...

I made it...

But her body... her brave, broken body... gave up.

Lying still under a tree, her face pressed against the cold, damp earth, Emma’s breath came in tiny, broken sobs.

Her thoughts frayed like threadbare silk.

Flashes of Jean smiling... Logan teasing her at the dinner table... Henry holding open the car door and calling her "princess" in jest... her father’s face, twisted by guilt... Alex’s shadow chasing her down the road...

So many lies...

A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

"I’m... not done yet," she whispered, barely a breath.

Then darkness crept in... gentle, like sleep.

I’m sorry... I tried my best.

__________________________

Henry was already on his third coffee when a call came.

His phone buzzed on the marble countertop of the company’s kitchen, the screen flashing a number he didn’t recognize. He almost ignored it... until something in his gut made him pick it up.

"Hello?" He answered.

A voice questioned. "Is this Mr. Henry Carter?"

"Yes, who’s this?"

"This is Officer Mendoza from the NYPD. I’m calling regarding a young woman... Emma Adams. Your number was listed as one of the emergency contact in her phone."

Henry’s heart dropped. "What happened?"

"There’s been an accident. Her car was found crashed about three miles from the Adams estate. There was evidence of tampering... and arson. The vehicle exploded, but she managed to get out before impact. She’s currently in critical condition at St. William’s Trauma Center."

Henry’s blood ran cold. His cup slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor.

But I dropped her off home last night! How did she get into a car?

"Is she... Is she alive?"

"She’s alive. Barely. But she hasn’t regained consciousness. We’re working under the assumption this may not have been an accident."

Relief. But it went away as soon as it came.

"I’m on my way."

He didn’t hang up... he just ran.

___________________________

In the hospital...

The antiseptic smell hit him first. Then the silence... that kind of silence you only feel in hospitals, where death feels like it’s waiting behind every door.

He found her in ICU, behind layers of glass.

Emma looked nothing like the firecracker he teased just yesterday. Tubes ran from her mouth and arms. Her face was pale, scratched, and bruised, her fiery spirit reduced to shallow beeps from a heart monitor.

Henry stood frozen at the glass, hands shaking.

Then, a nurse "She tried to tell us something," a nurse murmured beside him. "Before she passed out. She was muttering a name..."

Henry turned slowly. A name? I don’t understand anything... why would Emma take a name before loosing conscious?

"What name?"

"...Jean."

His jaw clenched.

He didn’t wait. He had no idea what is happening but maybe... just maybe there’s more to what it seems.

___________________________

The morning was unusually still.

Jean walked barefoot into the living room, wrapped in a loose robe, drawn by the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Logan sat at the kitchen counter, a mug in one hand, his eyes scanning something on his phone. His brows were furrowed, jaw tight.

He hadn’t even noticed her.

"Logan?" she said softly. Hoping to have a conversation after a silent night. She needed to clear his doubts...

He looked up, startled by her voice.

Before he could answer, a buzz vibrated the countertop. Logan’s phone lit up with a name... Henry.

He hesitated. Something about the timing unsettled him. But it was better than facing Jean after last night.

He answered.

"What is it?" Logan asked, voice casual.

Jean waited for him to finish... she wasn’t letting it go today.

A pause.

His back straightened.

Another pause.

Then... "Say that again."

Jean watched his knuckles go white around the mug.

"What do you mean exploded?"

She stepped closer. "Logan, what’s going on?"

Logan didn’t answer immediately. He ended the call and slowly lowered the phone, his breathing sharp.

"That was Henry," he said, voice low. He looked at Jean and hold her firmly before telling her. "Emma’s been in a car crash."

Jean blinked. "A crash? But... she just left yesterday with Henry..."

He cut her off. "They found her car off the highway. It burst into flames. She got out before the explosion... barely."

Jean’s heart thudded. Her legs moved on their own, circling around the kitchen island to stand leaving him. "Is she... alive?"

He nodded slowly, he caught her just as soon as she started to loose her footing. "Unconscious. ICU. They don’t know if she’ll make it."

Silence.

Jean reached for her phone on the counter. Her screen lit up.

5 Missed Calls – Emma,1 Voicemail

Jean’s hand froze mid air.

"She called me," she said in a whisper.

Logan blinked and looked at his screen again. His face twisted as he read the same.

6 Missed Calls – Emma

He pressed his fingers to his lips, disbelief clouding his eyes. "I ignored them... I thought she was calling to tell me. About you. About the bid."

Jean played the voicemail.

Nothing but static... and Emma’s breathless voice trying to say her name... "Jean, Jean, listen to me... he’s..." Click.

The message ended.

Jean’s knees gave way slightly, but she gripped the edge of the counter.

"She knew something," she whispered. "She tried to reach us."

Logan’s stare darkened. "And someone made sure she couldn’t."

Jean looked up at him. Her face pale. Her voice shaking. "You don’t think... this was just an accident, do you?"

"No," Logan said, his voice like ice. "This was a message."