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But I still care. Especially because “when we lose” is seeming a lot more apt than “if we lose.”

I won’t give up just yet, though. Not when I know what’s at stake.

I have to win.

Somehow.

Somehow.

“Well, come on then, Brody. Let’s settle this like men. Rock-paper-scissors?”

“You’re not as funny as you think you are, O’Sullivan.”

I sigh and let my hand fall by my side. “No one ever wants to settle anything with rock-paper-scissors,” I say sadly. “Big waste of effort to do things the hard way, if you ask me. But fine, fine—have it your way. Fight to the death it is. Boring, but whatever. I just hope it goes better than last time we did this.”

He narrows his eyes and shakes his head. “I don’t make deals with dead men,” he intones. “I’m just here to watch the show.”

He turns and starts walking back to his men, but he makes sure to give his instructions loud enough for us to hear.

“Kill everyone. But leave Cillian and the girl alive. I want to give them a show when it’s done.”

I glance to either side of me as my men get closer. “Let’s go down fighting, my brothers,” I snarl.

Just as we raise our guns, however, something drops in the empty space between us and the Kinahan troops.

What the—

“Is that a smoke bomb?” Kian asks incredulously.

And right on cue, the bomb detonates with a soft pop, so quiet it’s almost cute. Smoke billows up into the space between us—a massive, noxious curtain of it that obscures us from the Kinahan.

Then we’re engulfed by men pouring out from the castle doors. I brace for the unexpected assault, ready to die before I even had the chance to pull the trigger.

But oddly enough, these masked men seem to form a shield wall around us.

Like they’re… protecting us.

I turn to take a good look at the armed men in full riot gear. They’re definitely not O’Sullivan troops.

But they are very fucking familiar.

I stare at the tall figure who materializes in front of me. “Jesus fucking Christ,” I whisper.

Artem laughs. “Not quite. But I can see why you’d make that mistake.”


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