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

CHAPTER TWENTYDiarmuid

CHAPTER TWENTY

Diarmuid

THE COLD, YELLOW light flickers overhead, casting distorted shadows over the room. It's just the three of us down here—me, Ben, and Selene. But it feels like there are ghosts, too. The weight of Victor’s legacy, his training, everything I thought I understood about loyalty and power, presses down on my chest like a curse. The truth is clearer now than it’s ever been, and it cuts deeper than any blade.

Ben stands too close to her—too close to Selene—and every instinct I have is telling me to tear him apart. My fingers twitch at my side, inching toward the gun tucked in my jacket, but Ben’s watching me with that smug, knowing grin. I can’t stop glancing at the blood that coats Selene slim fingers, fingers that had given my body so much pleasure, her gentle caress and now they are coated in blood. I assume from the guards I had found a few meters back.

“Go ahead,” he sneers, his voice low, mocking. “Take the shot, Diarmuid. But we both know neither of us deserves that.”

His words hit harder than they should. I can feel the weight of them, the truth of them. He’s right. We’re both monsters. Trained killers, honed by Victor’s hand. A gunshot would be too clean, too simple. Men like us deserve to be ripped apart, not sent off with a quick, painless death.

I loosen my grip on the gun, letting the weight of it fall away. We’ll finish this with blood, not bullets.

“Still think Victor cared about you?” Ben’s voice slithers through the damp air, as if he’s reveling in this moment, savoring my hesitation. He takes a step closer to Selene, his hand brushing a lock of her hair from her face. “You were just a tool, Diarmuid. And now that you’ve outlived your usefulness—”

“Shut up,” I growl, my voice barely more than a rumble in my throat.

Ben grins wider. “You thought you were special, didn’t you? That Victor’s precious little killer would always be at the top of the chain. But he had other plans. He always did.”

I’ve been here before. This feeling—the slow unraveling of everything I thought I understood. But this time, it’s worse, because I see Selene standing there, a pawn in all of this. My failure. And that is something I can’t let slide.

A breath catches in her throat, and her eyes flicker between Ben and me. She’s scared, I can see it, but she’s trying to hide it. Strong, even now, when she shouldn’t have to be.

I take a step forward, my voice a low, dangerous murmur. “This ends now.”

Ben’s grin falters, just for a split second. But then, just as quickly, it returns, sharper than before. “You’re right. It does.”

The silence between us cracks like ice before an avalanche. Then, in an instant, we’re moving—two shadows colliding, fists and fury. The air fills with the sounds of flesh meeting flesh, bones cracking under the weight of blows meant to kill.

Ben and I are too evenly matched. Every punch, every block—it’s like looking in a mirror. I know what he’s going to do before he does it, and he knows the same about me. Our training, our instincts—they’re identical. It’s almost sad. Almost.

I dodge a sharp hook aimed for my temple, spinning out of his reach. My body moves on autopilot, fueled by years of conditioning. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through me, the familiar burn in my muscles, but there’s something else there too. Something darker.

Regret.

I can’t help but wonder who Ben would have been if Victor hadn’t sunk his claws into him. If he hadn’t been molded into the weapon he is now. And what about me? What could I have been? Not that it matters now. It’s too late for either of us.

We trade blows, vicious and precise. My knuckles are bloodied from the force of my strikes, but Ben isn’t slowing down. Neither of us are. This fight isn’t about skill—it’s about survival. One of us has to die down here.

I aim a punch at his ribs, but he twists just in time, and my fist glances off him. The room feels smaller now, the walls closing in, suffocating. The only sounds are our grunts of exertion and the sickening thud of fists meeting flesh.

Ben’s faster than I expected. He moves like a snake, coiling and striking, his hits coming quicker, more desperate. He knows, just like I do, that luck is the only thing that’ll decide who walks away from this.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see her—Selene. She’s edging closer, her eyes locked on us, on me. I don’t have time to think, not when Ben comes at me again, swinging wild. But the second I hesitate, it’s too late.

Ben gets in a lucky shot, a brutal uppercut that snaps my head back. Pain explodes in my skull, bright and white-hot, and for a moment, the world spins. I stagger back, trying to regain my footing, but Ben doesn’t let up.

He’s on me, his fists raining down in a frenzy, and I can feel myself losing ground. My vision blurs, the edges darkening, but I push through it, fighting to stay on my feet.

Out of nowhere, I hear a scream.

Selene.

I whip my head around, just in time to see Ben grab her by the arm and slam her into the wall. The sound of her body hitting the concrete is like a gunshot in my head, and before I know it, I’m moving again, rage fueling every step. I don’t care how many hits I have to take, I’m going to tear him apart.

“Selene!” Her name rips from my throat, but before I can reach them, Ben’s already got her pinned, his hand pressing down on her throat.

He looks over his shoulder at me, that twisted grin plastered on his face again. “Look at you,” he taunts. “Always too late.”

I’m not late. Not this time. I lunge at him, but he moves faster than I expect, throwing her aside like she’s nothing. She crumples to the floor, her hand smacking the concrete with a sickening crack, and my heart skips a beat. I don’t even check to see if she’s okay before I’m on him.

He sidesteps, dodging my wild punch, and twists the handle on a nearby faucet. Before I can react, a torrent of water bursts into the room, crashing against me with enough force to knock me off my feet. I hit the ground hard, my back slamming against the cold concrete, and for a second, all I can hear is the roar of the water.

It’s rising fast. Too fast.

I scramble to my feet, my legs struggling against the sudden flood. The room has transformed into a death trap, water pouring in from all sides, swirling around us, dragging us down. But I don’t have time to think about that. Not when Ben’s still standing.

“Let’s see how well you fight in this!” Ben’s voice cuts through the chaos, and before I can respond, he’s on me again.

We’re fighting against the water now, both of us slipping and sliding, trying to stay upright. It’s brutal—every punch, every kick is harder, more desperate. The water’s already up to my knees, making every movement feel like a slog through quicksand. My muscles scream with the effort, but I can’t stop.

I land a hit square on Ben’s jaw, and he stumbles, but before I can press the advantage, the water surges higher, nearly knocking me off balance. It’s like trying to fight in a raging river, every step a battle just to stay upright.

But I’m not giving up. Not when Selene’s life is on the line.

The water keeps rising, faster now. It’s waist-deep, swirling around us, and I can barely keep my footing. I manage to catch Ben with a hard right hook, sending him crashing into the wall, but as I move to finish him off, I catch a glimpse of Selene. She’s barely conscious, her head lolling to the side as the water creeps higher.

No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.

I hesitate, just for a second, and that’s all Ben needs. He’s on me in an instant, his hands wrapping around my throat, shoving me under the water. My world explodes into chaos, cold and dark. My lungs scream for air, my muscles burning as I thrash, trying to get free.

But Ben’s grip is like iron. He’s drowning me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

The water presses down on me, filling my ears with its roar. I can see the faint glow of the light above us, distorted and distant, and I know I’m running out of time. My fingers claw at the ground, searching for something, anything to use as a weapon.

I don’t have much time left. Selene doesn’t have much time left.

My hand brushes something cold, metal. A pipe. I grip it tight, ready to swing it at Ben’s head, but before I can, something changes.

The water goes red.

Ben’s grip loosens, and I burst to the surface, gasping for air. I cough, choking, my vision spinning as I drag myself up out of the water. The room is a blur of red and black, and for a second, I don’t understand what’s happened. My chest heaves, lungs burning from the fight for air, but as my vision clears, the truth hits me like a freight train.

Ben’s body floats beside me, face down in the water, blood seeping from the wound in his back, staining the pool of rising water.

I whip around, eyes wide, heart still pounding in my chest. And there she is.

Niamh.

She’s standing at the far side of the room, soaked to the bone, one arm gripping Selene’s limp form, keeping her head above the water. In her other hand is a gun, smoke still curling from the barrel.

The shot. I didn’t even hear it over the chaos.

I stagger to my feet, wading through the knee-deep water, half in a daze. The room tilts as I move, the adrenaline crashing through me like a wave, but I force myself to keep going. Selene. I have to get to her.