Chapter 80

Chapter 80
A roar tore through his chest as he surged forward, slamming Kiernan into the wall with bone-crushing force. His hands closed around the man’s throat, squeezing, his vision turning red. The plan was slipping from his mind, burning away under the sheer, blinding fury coursing through him.
Kiernan choked out a wheezing laugh, even as Seamus pressed harder. "There he is," he rasped. "The animal. The one you always were."
Seamus didn’t hear him. His world shrank to the pressure of his fingers crushing Kiernan’s windpipe, the tremor of panic in the man’s body as he struggled, the veins bulging in his forehead. He wanted to watch the life drain from Kiernan’s eyes. Wanted to rip the smirk off his face with his bare hands.
Mika moved fast.
"Seamus!" she hissed, grabbing his arm, her fingers digging into his skin, pulling him back. "Stick to the plan."
For a moment, he didn’t hear her. He saw nothing but Kiernan’s smug, twisted expression, the promise of what he would do if they failed. His muscles tensed, his grip tightening until Kiernan's gasps turned into desperate wheezes, his body bucking violently against the wall.
Mika yanked harder. "Seamus!"
His gaze snapped to hers. Blood-streaked, pain-laced, but steady. She was grounding him. Pulling him back.
His grip loosened just enough for Kiernan to suck in a ragged breath, coughing violently as his body sagged against the wall. The moment lingered, stretching between them like a razor’s edge.
Seamus forced himself to let go. But the fury still burned, deep and uncontrollable.
Kiernan staggered, rubbing his throat, his expression flickering between shock and dark amusement. "Touched a nerve, did I?"
Seamus’ breath heaved, his fists clenched at his sides. He needed to control himself. Needed to let this play out exactly as they planned. But he was one wrong move away from abandoning everything just to kill this man right here and now.
Kiernan smirked, rubbing his throat again. "I’ll enjoy taking my time with her. Maybe I’ll let her scream for you first."
Seamus lunged again—
But Kiernan was ready.
The momentary shift gave him just enough space to pull a knife from his belt and slash forward. Seamus twisted, the blade just missing his throat, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop the second strike.
Pain seared through his side.
The knife embedded deep, right where Seamus had planned. His body jerked at the impact, a guttural sound ripping from his throat. Mika’s cry rang out behind him, raw and desperate, exactly as rehearsed.
Seamus staggered, one hand going to the wound, feeling the warmth of his own blood soaking through his shirt. He let his knees buckle slightly, just enough to sell it, just enough to make Kiernan believe he had won.
Kiernan twisted the blade before yanking it free, his grin widening as Seamus crumpled to one knee. "Finally," he breathed. "The great Seamus brought to his knees. I hope you enjoyed the chase."
Seamus lifted his head, his breath ragged, his expression carefully measured between pain and defiance. "Go to hell."
Kiernan let out a sharp laugh, but his amusement quickly darkened when Mika raised the small black remote in her blood-slicked hand, her finger hovering over the switch.
Kiernan’s expression twisted from amusement to confusion. Then to rage.
Mika’s voice was deadly calm despite the blood staining her lips. "You have ten seconds."
Kiernan’s gaze flickered to the blinking red light in the corner of the bunker. Realization dawned—too late.
His expression twisted, first in confusion, then in rage. "You crazy—"
Mika pressed the button.
The world erupted in fire.
Silence.
A deep, crushing silence that followed the deafening explosion like the breath of the dead.
The world was fire and smoke. The ground groaned beneath layers of charred concrete and twisted steel. Flames licked hungrily at the wreckage, thick black plumes of smoke curling toward the night sky. What had once been a bunker was now little more than a collapsed inferno, bodies buried beneath it, lost to the destruction.
For a long moment, there was nothing. No movement. No sign of life.
Then—a shift. A slow, grinding scrape of metal against stone. A cough, ragged and wet.
The rubble moved.
From beneath the layers of wreckage, Mika clawed her way free, her fingers raw, coated in blood and soot. Her body screamed in protest, every muscle aching from the impact of the blast. She dragged herself forward, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she broke through a pocket of open air.
Smoke burned her lungs, but she forced herself up onto her elbows, eyes darting wildly through the destruction.
Seamus.
She turned, coughing hard as she scanned the debris. The plan had been airtight. They had prepared for this, had timed every step perfectly. But that didn’t mean survival had been guaranteed.
“Seamus!” Her voice was hoarse, almost swallowed by the roaring flames. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she pushed herself to her feet, her legs trembling beneath her.
Then she saw him.