Chapter 67

Chapter 67
Mika looked up as Seamus wiped his hands off, his eyes flicking to hers. "What’s left?"
She exhaled, wiping sweat from her temple. "We need to dig trenches near the entrance. If we’re forced inside, they won’t be able to storm us without falling right into the pit."
Seamus nodded. "I’ll grab the shovels. You cover the back perimeter."
She watched him go before turning her attention back to the forest. This place, this quiet stretch of land that had been theirs for only a short time, was about to become a battlefield. And she wasn’t afraid.
She tightened the last tripwire, securing it in place, then stood, rolling her shoulders. The traps were set, the sensors activated, and the land between them and their enemy had been turned into a death field.
Seamus took a step toward her, his eyes scanning the tree line one last time. "It’s done. Now we wait."
Mika exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the moment settle over them. She met his gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. There was no running now. No escaping what was coming.
They had set the stage. Now it was just a matter of who would survive the final act.
Mika wiped the sweat from her brow as she stepped into the bunker, shaking dirt from her hands. The outside was as fortified as they could make it. If Kiernan's men came, they would bleed for every inch they tried to take. But now, she needed answers.
She moved to her laptop, flipping it open and tapping rapidly at the keyboard. The motion sensors were active, all systems running as expected. But something gnawed at her—a feeling that they were still missing something, that there was another layer of control in the Syndicate she hadn’t yet uncovered. The way Kiernan carried himself, the way he spoke to Seamus—it was personal, deeper than a simple soldier and commander relationship.
Mika dug into the encrypted files she had stolen from the Syndicate’s network before their escape. She had accessed most of the financial data already, traced the transactions, followed the breadcrumbs of corruption, but now she bypassed those entirely, looking for internal communications, orders, anything with Kiernan’s name attached.
Minutes passed. Then an hour. The deeper she went, the more she uncovered.
Old messages. Coded directives. Sealed dossiers under layers of security. She cracked one file, then another, each revealing pieces of something bigger, something darker. And then she saw it—

Kiernan O’Sullivan, High Commander of The Morrígan Syndicate.

Mika stilled, her breath catching. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, her pulse pounding in her ears.
It wasn’t possible. It didn’t make sense.
Kiernan wasn’t just a lieutenant, wasn’t just another high-ranking assassin. He was the Syndicate.
He had built the network, orchestrated its expansion, controlled everything from the shadows. Every job, every kill, every operation—they had all been under his command.
Her stomach turned.
Seamus had spent his entire life being manipulated by the very man who had founded the world he had been forced to serve. The man who had taken him in as a child hadn’t just been another assassin in the chain of command. He had been the head of the snake all along.
Mika’s breath came quicker now, a sick, twisting realization flooding her veins. This wasn’t just revenge for Seamus. This wasn’t just another war against a powerful enemy.
This was personal. This was blood.
She stood quickly, her chair scraping against the floor. She turned just as Seamus stepped into the bunker, his eyes flicking to her, sensing the shift immediately.
“What?” he asked, voice low, guarded.
Mika’s lips parted, but the words didn’t come at first. She had to force them out, had to steady herself against the weight of them.
“Kiernan isn’t just coming for you,” she whispered. “He is the Syndicate.”
Seamus froze. His entire body went still, his jaw tightening, his eyes darkening into something unreadable.
For the first time, Mika saw something flicker in him—not just rage, not just resolve. Something close to devastation.
Seamus stood frozen, the weight of Mika’s words pressing down on him like a crushing tide. He had prepared for war, for bloodshed, for the final confrontation with Kiernan—but he hadn’t prepared for this.
Kiernan wasn’t just his mentor, his handler, his captor. He was the Syndicate. The architect of everything Seamus had spent his life trying to escape.
His breath came slow, controlled, but his hands curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms. The room around him blurred, the dim light of the bunker casting long, stretching shadows across the walls. His mind spiraled backward, dragging him through memories he had locked away, reframing them under this new, unforgiving truth.
Every lesson, every order, every kill Kiernan had ever given him—none of it had been just for survival. It had always been about control.
The Syndicate had never been a faceless entity, never been a sprawling network he could burn down one piece at a time. It had been one man. The man who had raised him. The man who had shaped him into a weapon. The man who had made him believe there was no escape.
He thought of every mission, every contract, every bloodstained night. Kiernan had pulled the strings, had watched him kill, had made him into this.