Chapter 85

Chapter 85
For the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure what to say.
Water dripped from his hair, running down his face, mixing with the sheer panic she could see simmering just beneath his skin. His grip on the pregnancy test was tight, like he was afraid to let it go, like it might disappear if he blinked.
His voice, when he finally spoke, was rough, raw. “You knew.”
Mika met his gaze, steady despite the storm she could see tearing through him. “Yeah.”
Seamus exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his soaked hair before looking at her again, like he was seeing her for the first time, like she had turned into something unfamiliar.
He shook his head. “Since the bunker?”
“Yeah.”
His throat bobbed, his jaw tightening as he stared at her, water dripping down his face, his clothes clinging to him. He looked like a man on the verge of something—explosion, revelation, collapse.
A child. His child. The realization slammed into him all over again.
He took a step closer, his boots heavy against the tile. “You didn’t think to tell me?”
Mika’s fingers curled into her palm, her expression unreadable. “We were a little busy trying not to die.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Her chin lifted slightly. “It’s the only one I’ve got.”
Seamus’ chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. His pulse thundered in his ears, a chaotic drumbeat he couldn’t slow. This wasn’t just another mission. This wasn’t another fight he could strategize his way through.
This was real. This was permanent.
And then his eyes drifted downward.
It wasn’t immediate, wasn’t something he had even been thinking to look for. But now that he was standing this close, now that the steam had cleared just enough to give him an unfiltered view, he saw it.
Her body—
Her breasts, fuller, heavier than before, her nipples pebbled from the heat of the shower. The slight swell of her stomach, barely noticeable, but now that he saw it, he couldn’t unsee it. The changes were subtle but undeniable, proof that this was happening, that she was already carrying his child.
His breath hitched. The test in his hand slipped from his fingers, clattering against the tile before spinning to a stop.
It broke something inside him.
For all the fighting, the running, the survival, none of it had truly prepared him for this moment. For the sight of her body already changing, already carrying something—someone—made of them both.
Seamus staggered back slightly, pressing a palm against the tiled wall like he needed to steady himself. His throat tightened, his entire body locking up as something raw and unfamiliar carved its way into his chest.
His voice was barely more than a whisper. “Jesus Christ.”
Mika didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. Just watched him, letting him take it in, letting him fall apart in real time.
He wiped a hand over his mouth, water still dripping down his face, his breathing uneven. “I—”
He couldn’t finish. Couldn’t find the words for what this was doing to him.
Because for the first time in his life, he had no fucking idea what to do.
The moment stretched between them, heavy, suffocating.
Mika watched as Seamus leaned against the tile, his eyes darting between the test on the shower floor and her body. His face was unreadable—panic, confusion, something else she couldn’t place. But it wasn’t relief. It wasn’t anything close to the reaction she had expected from the man who had survived hell by her side.
Her heart clenched.
Then, without thinking, she pulled back her fist and punched him square in the face.
The impact was solid, the crack of her knuckles against his jaw sharp even over the roar of the water. Seamus’ head snapped to the side, his body jerking from the force of it. He grunted, blinking against the pain, but didn’t move, didn’t fight back.
“Fuck you,” Mika hissed, her voice raw, shaking with anger.
Seamus brought a hand to his jaw, working it back and forth like he wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t broken something. His chest was still heaving, his breath uneven, but he said nothing.
And that silence—it shattered something inside her.
Mika’s body trembled, not from fear, not from exhaustion, but from sheer fury.
“I carried this alone,” she seethed, her voice sharp as a blade. “Through gunfire, through blood, through every single goddamn moment we weren’t sure we were going to make it. And you have the audacity to look at me like that?”
Seamus didn’t move, but something flickered in his eyes—something wounded, something torn.
She didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.
“You want to fall apart? Fine. Do it. But don’t you dare act like I betrayed you by not telling you sooner. You think I didn’t want to? You think I didn’t lie awake at night wondering if we’d even live long enough for this to matter?”
Her voice cracked on the last word, but she didn’t let it slow her down.
Seamus’ breathing was ragged, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his soaked clothes plastered to his skin. He looked like a man drowning.
Mika wasn’t finished.
“I have fought for my life every single day since I was a kid. I never let anyone break me. Not the system, not the Syndicate, not the people who tried to kill us. But you—” She jabbed a finger against his chest, her voice turning into a snarl. “You looking at me like I just fucking ruined your life? That broke me.”
Seamus’ flinch was barely noticeable, but she saw it. Felt it.
He swallowed hard, still gripping his jaw, still too stunned to react.
Mika sucked in a shaky breath, her entire body vibrating with emotion.
Then she turned, stepping out of the shower, not caring that water dripped onto the floor, not caring about anything except getting the hell away from him before she completely lost it.
She grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her body with jerky, furious movements.
Seamus was still standing in the shower, still soaked, still silent.
Mika clenched her jaw.
“If you’re going to run, just fucking do it,” she spat before storming out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
Mika moved on autopilot, her hands shaking only slightly as she threw clothes into a bag. She wasn’t thinking about where she was going—just that she had to go.
A quiet rustle behind her made her turn. Seamus was awake now, propped on one elbow, his eyes sharp even in the darkness. He studied her for a moment before reaching out a hand.
Mika hesitated, then crossed the room, letting him pull her back into bed, his arms locking around her once more. His hand slid over her stomach again, fingers spreading wide, protective, claiming.
She let out a slow breath, relaxing against him.
Their world was far from perfect. Their road was still dangerous.
But together, they would carve out their own future—one that belonged to them, and to the life they had created.
The past was behind them.
The future was theirs to take.