Chapter 74

Chapter 74
Their bodies collided again, raw force meeting honed skill. Kiernan fought with precision, controlled and deadly. Every move had weight, every strike had intention. He wasn’t just trying to win—he was trying to teach a lesson.
“You really want to know?” Kiernan gritted out as he blocked a punch, countering with a brutal knee to Seamus’ ribs. “Fine. You were never supposed to exist.”
Seamus absorbed the blow, barely reacting. He threw a punch that landed hard against Kiernan’s jaw, snapping his head to the side. “And yet, here I am.”
Kiernan spat blood onto the floor and smirked. “Your mother was a dumb bitch who thought she could fuck her way out of the life she was born into.”
Seamus’ stomach turned, but he didn’t let himself hesitate. He attacked again, forcing Kiernan back. “She was your problem, you mean.”
Kiernan grunted as he deflected the next strike, his expression shifting to something almost entertained. “That’s right, boy. She was weak. She thought love meant something in our world. She thought if she spread her legs for the wrong man, she could escape.”
Seamus drove his elbow into Kiernan’s ribs, pushing him back with sheer force. “And you made sure she couldn’t.”
“I did what I had to.” Kiernan’s voice was calm, like he was discussing a business transaction rather than murder. “She thought running would save you. Thought hiding you away would change who you are.”
Seamus’ hands clenched into fists. “And what am I?”
Kiernan tilted his head, eyes dark. “Mine.”
Seamus lunged again, fury igniting in his veins, but Kiernan was ready. The fight raged on, every strike fueled by a lifetime of unanswered questions and buried pain. The truth was finally coming out—
And by the end of it, only one of them would be left standing.
Seamus barely had time to breathe before Kiernan was on him again.
They crashed into the bunker’s support beams, their fists a brutal blur of motion. Blood slicked Seamus’ knuckles, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet. He needed more—needed to break Kiernan piece by piece, until there was nothing left of the bastard who had ruined everything.
Kiernan grinned, a crimson smear splitting across his face. “This is what you were made for, boy. You think you’re anything else? You think that little bitch is going to save you?”
Seamus’ muscles coiled, his vision tunneling. Mika.
Kiernan saw the shift, the flicker of emotion, and pounced. He slammed his forearm into Seamus’ throat, pinning him back against the cold concrete.
“I’ve seen the way you look at her,” Kiernan murmured, his breath thick with blood and arrogance. “Pretty little thing. I bet she screams real sweet.”
Seamus’ entire body went rigid, but Kiernan wasn’t done. His lips curled, voice dropping lower, dripping venom.
“As soon as I slit your throat, I’m going to see what’s between her legs. And this time, I won’t kill her after.”
The world snapped.
Seamus exploded.
With a snarl, he wrenched free, driving his fist into Kiernan’s gut so hard the man folded in half. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He struck again, knuckles colliding with ribs, with bone, with flesh.
Kiernan stumbled, laughing through the blood, but Seamus was already on him. He tackled him to the ground, straddling his chest, raining blow after blow into his face. Skin split, cartilage crunched, but Seamus barely noticed.
All he saw was red.
All he heard was the phantom echo of Mika’s screams—screams that hadn’t happened yet, but would if he failed.
He wouldn’t fail.
Kiernan spat blood, blinking up at him through swollen eyes, and grinned. “There he is. My boy.”
Seamus grabbed him by the throat, squeezing until the smirk turned into a strangled choke.
“You’re not walking out of this.” His voice was calm. Deadly. Absolute.
Kiernan’s fingers twitched toward the blade at his side, but Seamus was faster. He slammed his elbow into the side of Kiernan’s head, dazing him, then reached for his own knife.
This time, there would be no missing.
But Kiernan wasn’t done yet.
Seamus had Kiernan pinned, his knife poised to end it.
But Kiernan was never one to die easy.
With a sharp, desperate twist, Kiernan wrenched free just enough to drive his blade upward—
Straight into Seamus’ side.
The pain was immediate, searing, like fire ripping through his flesh. Seamus sucked in a breath, but his body betrayed him. His limbs trembled, his grip on Kiernan faltered, and before he could recover, the bastard twisted the blade deeper, grinding it into muscle, tearing through him with slow, merciless precision.
Seamus choked on a curse, blood spilling from his lips as the world tilted. The fight, the rage, the adrenaline—it all crashed around him in a deafening silence.
He barely heard Mika’s scream.
His knees hit the cold ground, the agony ripping through him like a merciless tide. Kiernan shoved him off, letting him collapse onto his back, towering over him with a sick, satisfied grin.
“Looks like I win after all, boy,” Kiernan sneered, wiping blood from his mouth as he watched Seamus bleed out. “Shame. You put up a hell of a fight.”
Seamus’ vision blurred, but before Kiernan could strike again, a gunshot rang out.
Mika.
She was there, out of nowhere, her gun shaking in her hands, smoke curling from the barrel. She had missed—on purpose or from sheer desperation, he wasn’t sure. But it was enough to force Kiernan back a step.
And then she was running to him.