When Kings Fall (The O’Sullivan’s Brides #3)

CHAPTER SIXTEENSelene

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Selene

THE CAR HUMS softly beneath us, and the empty Dublin streets stretch out like veins of the city. I glance over at Ben, watching him through the corner of my eye. A slight smile curls at his lips, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. He’s enjoying this. This little adventure, as he’d probably call it.

Except this isn’t little, is it? We’re not out for a joyride or some midnight escapade. We’re about to confront the President of Ireland. Confront. That word sticks in my mind like a thorn. How does Ben even plan to do this? I’m too curious to ask. That’s the worst part. Even knowing I’m hurtling toward another reckless mistake, I can’t stop. That curiosity is an anchor pulling me deeper into this madness.

I glance down at the cell phone in my hand, the cold metal pressing against my palm. By now, Diarmuid has probably figured it out. He’s smart, resourceful. He would have called someone in the Hands of Kings by now, someone connected to the phone company. They’re tracking me. I know that, and there’s an unsettling thrill in the knowledge. Part of me wants to turn the phone off, just to see how long I can stay off their radar. Just to feel free.

But I can’t. Not to Diarmuid. He doesn’t deserve that.

For the first time, guilt settles in my chest, spreading like a slow burn. I feel guilty about making someone else worry. I don’t want to vanish from Diarmuid. Not like this. But I also don’t want to be found too early. I sigh, flicking the screen off without powering it down. The phone slips back into my pocket. It feels heavier now, the weight of it suddenly more tangible.

Ben knows I still have it. I know that. He hasn’t taken it from me. He’s too sharp for that. The fact that he hasn’t says more than I’d like. It twists in my gut like a bad omen. Does he want me to have it? Does he want me to be tracked? The questions pile up, suffocating me in silence, but I swallow them down and focus on the road ahead.

We’re approaching Phoenix Park, but something’s off. The car slows, and instead of the grand silhouette of áras an Uachtaráin, Ben pulls into an empty parking lot. The Dublin Zoo? The place has been closed for hours, and the parking lot is mostly empty.

Ben gets out without a word, circling the car to open my door, as if I can’t get it open myself. The frost glimmers under the pale moonlight, covering the ground like shards of glass. I step out into the cold, my breath catching in the frigid air.

“What are we doing here?” I ask, my voice low, half-breathless.

“I’ve always been a fan of lions,” Ben replies, his grin spreading wider now. It’s playful, almost mocking, but there’s an undercurrent of something darker.

Before I can respond, he’s already moving, leading me away from the car and toward the shadows of the outer fence. The sharp chill of winter bites into my skin, but I pull my coat tighter, forcing myself to keep up. We skirt along the edges of the zoo, avoiding the main entrance, slipping into the darkness like thieves. Ben moves with a kind of quiet ease that unnerves me, his steps silent, calculated. Every few moments, he pauses, head tilted slightly, listening. My pulse quickens each time, the silence around us growing heavier, pressing in like a vice.

We finally reach a section of the fence untouched by security cameras. Ben turns to me, his eyes gleaming in the faint light.

“I’ll help you over,” he says, the words too casual for the gravity of the situation.

I nod, bracing myself as I grab the cold metal bars of the fence. My fingers are numb, the metal biting into my skin, but I manage to pull myself up. When I reach the top, Ben pushes me up with a firm grip on my foot, sending me over the edge.

I don’t land gracefully. I try to catch a branch on the way down, but my fingers slip, and I crash to the ground, the impact knocking the wind from my lungs. I gasp, my chest burning, and for a moment, I just lie there, the cold seeping into my bones.

Then I hear it. The soft padding of paws.

At first, I think it’s my imagination, but then the sound grows louder. Closer.

I freeze, my heart pounding in my ears. Slowly, I turn my head toward the sound, and my breath catches in my throat.

Yellow eyes. Glowing in the moonlight, unblinking, fixed on me.

A gray wolf stands just a few feet away, its gaze locked on mine. It’s massive, its fur bristling, muscles rippling beneath its coat as it moves with lethal grace. Behind it, more wolves emerge from the shadows, their forms barely visible in the dim light. They’re watching, waiting.

My body goes rigid. Panic rises in my chest like a wave, threatening to drown me. I try to push myself up, but my limbs feel heavy, useless. The wolf takes a step closer, its breath visible in the cold air. The others begin to fan out, their eyes gleaming, their movements slow, deliberate.

I’m trapped. The fence presses against my back, cold and unyielding, and the wolves are closing in. My breath comes in short, shallow gasps. I know better than to run. It will only trigger them.

Just as I feel the hot rush of fear fully overwhelm me, there’s a loud thud behind me, and suddenly, Ben drops down from the fence, landing between me and the wolves.

He’s laughing. Actually laughing. The sound is sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife.

“I thought I was sending you into the red panda exhibit,” he says, his voice laced with amusement. “Oops.”

Oops? I want to scream, to throttle him, but I’m too busy watching the wolves. They hesitate, their eyes flicking between Ben and me.

Then, slowly, they retreat, their forms slipping back into the shadows as quietly as they appeared. I exhale shakily, pushing myself to my feet. My hands are trembling, my heart still pounding.

Ben turns to me, that maddening grin still plastered on his face. “Come on. We’ve got lions to see.”

I glare at him, but I follow. I don’t have a choice. Not right now.

We approach the lion enclosure. The massive forms of Asiatic lions lie within, their breaths fogging the cold air as they sleep. Ben glances at me, eyes twinkling.

“I’m not going into another exhibit,” I warn, my voice sharper than intended.

Ben laughs, a low, throaty sound. “Don’t worry. We’re not here for the lions. We’re here for the president.”

I stare at him, my pulse spiking again. “What are you talking about?”

He points toward a storage building beside the lion exhibit. “áras an Uachtaráin is just beyond the zoo. There are a series of tunnels under the president’s residence used for emergencies. One of those tunnels leads here.”

I blink, trying to wrap my mind around what he’s saying. Tunnels? The President hiding in a zoo? This feels like a nightmare I can’t wake from. The air around me feels colder, heavier, and the chill reaches my bones as I stare at the building Ben’s pointing to.

Something is wrong. Very wrong.

As Ben strides toward the storage shed, I take a step back, my heart hammering in my chest. I pull out my phone, my fingers fumbling as I video call Diarmuid. I don’t wait for him to pick up. I set the phone down on a nearby garbage can, angling it toward the lion exhibit’s sign. If Ben sees, he doesn’t react.

But I have a gut feeling that he wants Diarmuid to find us.

I step into the storage building, the air inside colder than it should be. Ben is already moving crates aside, revealing a hidden panel in the wall. He grins at me, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

With a swift motion, he opens the panel, revealing a dark, narrow tunnel that stretches into the earth. A cold wind blows from below, carrying the scent of damp stone and something else—something old. Something forgotten.

“Ladies first,” Ben says, his voice low, taunting.

I stand at the edge of the tunnel, the darkness yawning before me. My gut twists with a deep, primal fear. Every instinct screams at me to turn back, to get out of here while I still can.

But I’ve come too far.

I take a deep breath, my hand brushing the cold, hard stone of the tunnel entrance. One step forward, and I’m swallowed by the dark.