Chapter 73

Chapter 73
Mika didn’t go down.
The moment the blade was yanked from her side, she stumbled but caught herself, adrenaline burning through the pain like gasoline to fire. She didn’t have time to think about the wound, about the blood soaking her side—there were still enemies left standing, and she wasn’t done yet.
With a sharp inhale, she straightened, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her knife. Her vision blurred at the edges, but she forced herself to focus, to keep moving. If she stopped now, she wouldn’t start again.
Seamus was a force of nature beside her, a whirlwind of destruction, but then—
A presence. A shift in the air. A predator stepping into the fray.
Kiernan.
Mika barely had time to register the name before he was moving, his target clear. Not her.
Seamus.
The two men collided with brutal force, bodies slamming into the bunker wall hard enough to send cracks spiderwebbing through the concrete. Kiernan wasn’t like the others. He didn’t come at Seamus like a desperate man trying to survive—he moved with purpose, with precision. He had trained for this. He had waited for this.
Seamus barely had time to deflect the first strike before Kiernan was on him again, relentless. A knife slashed through the air, barely missing Seamus’ throat as he twisted out of the way. The fight was fast, merciless, brutal.
Kiernan wasn’t just fighting to kill. He was fighting to prove something.
Mika forced herself to keep moving, cutting through the remaining attackers as the two men clashed. Every time she tried to push toward them, another enemy got in her way, forcing her back into the fight, forcing her to bleed for every inch of space she tried to claim.
Seamus and Kiernan weren’t speaking. There were no words, no taunts, just raw, animalistic violence.
Seamus drove his elbow into Kiernan’s ribs, but the other man barely flinched. Instead, he took the hit, absorbed the pain, and used it to fuel his next attack. He feinted left before swinging right, his fist connecting with Seamus’ jaw in a sickening crunch.
Seamus staggered. Just a half-step, but it was enough.
Kiernan saw it, capitalized on it. He was on Seamus before he could recover, driving him backward, pressing him against the wall with a forearm crushing his throat.
Mika saw the shift, the tide turning, and something primal ripped through her.
She had to get to him.
She had to stop this.
But Kiernan wasn’t done. He leaned in close, his voice a low growl over the chaos.
"You should’ve stayed dead."
And then he drove his knife toward Seamus’ ribs.
Kiernan’s knife plunged forward—
But Seamus twisted at the last second, the blade slicing just past his ribs instead of burying deep. Pain flared where the edge nicked him, but he barely felt it. He had bigger things to focus on.
Seamus shoved hard, breaking free of Kiernan’s hold, sending both of them stumbling back. The fight wasn’t over, not even close, but Seamus wasn’t just fighting to survive anymore. He was fighting for the truth.
He wiped blood from his mouth and leveled Kiernan with a look that cut deeper than any blade.
“I know,” Seamus said, voice rough with something raw and dark. “I know you killed my mother. And I know why.”
Kiernan stilled. It was just for a fraction of a second, but Seamus saw it. Saw the flicker of something behind his eyes—recognition, maybe even amusement. And then he smiled. A slow, knowing thing that sent ice down Seamus’ spine.
“So, you finally figured it out,” Kiernan mused, circling him like a predator. “Took you long enough.”
Seamus didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting. Instead, he rolled his shoulders, stance solid, waiting for the next attack. “You took everything from me.”
Kiernan laughed, sharp and humorless. “I did what needed to be done.”
And then he lunged.