Page 37 of When Kings Fall

“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, nearlyknocking 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.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Niamh

THE GUNSHOT REVERBERATES through the tunnels, a sound so loud and unnatural it feels like it’s echoing inside my skull. Over and over. Longer than it should, until I’m not sure if it’s real anymore. Maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s just in my head. But I can’t stop hearing it.

The adrenaline guided my hand. In that moment, there was no hesitation. I pulled the trigger because I had to. Because Diarmuid was drowning, and if I didn’t do something, he wouldn’t have made it out. I saved him.

But now, with everything quiet except for the pounding in my head, I’m hit by the realization—what I’ve done. The weight of it feels like it’s pushing me under.

I, Niamh Connolly, killed someone.

My eyes are fixed on Selene. She’s slipping away from me, under the water again in my mind, but that can’t be true. She’s here. I got her. She was drowning, but I pulled her back. I saved her, too. And Diarmuid... God, Diarmuid!

Someone is trying to take Selene. My hands tighten, grabbing her like she’s a lifeline, like I can keep her here if I just hold on hard enough.

Diarmuid’s arms wrap around me from behind, pulling me back, but I’m fighting him. My body is acting without me. I might be screaming, but I can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in my ears, the gunshot still echoing. My mouth is open, and I’m clawing at him, trying to tear myself free. He’s too strong. Too steady. He’s always been too strong.

I’m gasping when I finally stop fighting. The water has mostly drained away, and the air smells damp, like the world is exhaling after holding its breath too long. Diarmuid must have done it—turned the water off, saved us.

I slump against the wall, staring at the body. He’s there, the man who had his hands around Diarmuid’s throat, and now he’s... just there. Still, I shot him. I did that. And now he’s gone, and I can’t take it back.

---