Page 19 of Unrequited (Bratva Kings #6)

“He doesn’t always carry a weapon, they say, because he is one. Never raises his voice, yet even the most hardened criminals fear and obey him.”

I swallow. And Seamus works for him?

“No one’s ever seen him bleed. He doesn’t threaten either—everything he says is a promise, they say. ”

My heart thunders.

She blows out a breath. “They call him The Undertaker because no one has ever survived crossing him, and anyone who tried was buried. His code is older than dirt, and he doesn’t break it, not for anything.”

“Oh,” I murmur, quiet and shaken. “Well. Isn’t he married?” I ask. “I mean… men like him usually are. Older. Settled. Right?”

She laughs, a light sound that doesn’t match the weight in my chest. Shakes her head. “He’s not old ,” she says. “And no, he’s definitely not married.”

“Oh.”

A chill creeps down my spine, trailing like icy fingers. I sit up straighter and try to swallow—but something hard and dry is lodged in my throat.

I reach for my water glass and sip. Just a little. Just enough to wet my mouth.

“He’s… he’s not?” I manage.

“No. Not The Undertaker . He’s quite young considering his reputation and rank, actually.” She tilts her head, considering. “Older than you by about ten, twelve years. About Rafail’s age.”

“About Rafail’s age?” I echo. “What else do you know about him?” I ask, trying to sound offhanded.

“He’s the oldest son of Keenan McCarthy,” she tells me. “The head of the McCarthy clan.”

I blink at her. “The McCarthys? ”

“They’re powerful,” she says. “In Ireland. Old blood. They live in this little place called Ballyhock.”

The words drop like stones in my stomach.

“Ballyhock,” I repeat, the name catching in my throat. My voice sounds hollow. “That… coastal village. Just outside Dublin.”

The one Seamus has told me about over and over and over again, so vividly I feel like I’ve been there.

Oh my god.

Nooooo.

“Oh my god,” I whisper. “Holy shit. Okay.”

I try to play it off, casual. “Do you happen to know his real name?” I ask. “The Undertaker’s?”

I feel so stupid. Idiotic. How could I have not seen this? How could I have believed something else, anything else? But I know. I know the truth before she says it.

My body knows. My bones know. Every nerve ending is screaming.

She looks me straight in the eye. “I think his name is Seamus,” she says.

The lights flicker.

Downstairs, someone screams. It’s like someone flipped a switch—sunlight replaced with shadow. The bedroom is swallowed in darkness.

“That’s strange,” Polina whispers, rising to her feet. “Zoya, I need to see what’s going on. Stay here,” she says quickly. “Do you have a weapon?”

“Of course I do,” I reply, steadying myself.

What is happening ? Is it just my hopeless romantic brain wanting to believe he's coming for me—that he meant it when he said he would? No . He came last night. We exchanged words, fired off every emotion like bullets. And now… even if he wanted to claim me, he can’t.

I’m engaged to another man.

Then why do I feel like I’m about to cry?

I square my shoulders as calm settles over the house again. I’ve made up ghost stories in my head as if there’s something to fear. No. I need to get this wedding over with. Now.

Polina returns. “All good. I’m not sure what happened there.”

Interesting. I swallow hard when she smiles at me. “You ready?”

I turn to my makeup. If they’re going to take pictures, if I’m going to be a bride… I will be the most beautiful damn bride they’ve ever seen.

Concealer, thick and perfect under my eyes. Foundation. Powder. A touch of highlighter, not too much. Mascara, eyeliner, lipstick. I never go this far. Never. But today… today feels like it calls for it.

Still, it all feels like a dream.

“I’m ready. ”

I walk down the stairs as if facing my execution. My steps echo on the floor, but I don’t shake. I won’t.

Strings of music play. Everyone looks gorgeous, all dressed in formal wear. The house has been decorated in whites and ivory, gold ribbons and bouquets of white flowers.

Rafail smiles at me. I give him a half smile back.

One day, maybe I’ll forgive him.

I look to the altar, but don’t see my groom.

That’s a little odd.

Rafail looks where I do and frowns.

“Open the doors,” he orders.

A gasp rips through the room.

Because it’s not Pavel Morozov standing there.

Rafail’s gun is drawn, and Semyon is already moving.

“Stand down,” Rafail orders, his voice hard.

Seamus holds my gaze across the crowded room.

I can’t breathe. Because even now, even knowing who he is, what he’s done, my heart betrays me.

Another gasp echoes, but Seamus’s voice cuts through the tension like a bullet.

“Quiet,” he says with authority. “Everyone, stay still. This entire place is rigged.”

My breath catches. The air is suddenly thinner .

“Kopolov,” he says, his eyes locked cold on Rafail. “Before you even think about pulling that trigger, know this. I was under orders to take your family that night at the Wolf and Moon. You remember that? The night your little sister betrayed you?”

Rafail nods. Frozen.

My heart pounds, loud and erratic.

“My testament,” Seamus continues, eerily calm. “That night, I ended the lives of the men who betrayed me. My boss believed it was you. They’ll know the truth soon enough. I told them they’d pay for their betrayal, and I always keep my word.”

He looks at Semyon, who’s now ghost-pale. Rodion’s hands curl into tight fists. Rafail refuses to look away.

“I promised you one thing,” Seamus says, eyes on Rafail. “Didn’t I?”

And then, oh my god , he turns to me. “I told you I would come for your sister. I remember it vividly. I bet Semyon does, too. And I never, ever back down on my word.”

He gestures, his hand steady, his voice quiet. “Come here, Zoya.”

My body refuses to move at first.

“Go,” Rafail whispers in my ear. “You have to do what he says now. I can’t stop him.”

The room is rigged.

Seamus’s voice rolls through the room. “I have forty plants stationed on this estate. Every exit. Standing right beside you.”

My head snaps up. The guards, uniformed, still, all armed, are everywhere .

We’re surrounded.

Holy shit.

He snuck them all in.

For me.

A promise. A vendetta. A reckoning.

“What did you do with Morozov?” Rafail asks flatly.

Seamus’s eyes ice over. “You know exactly what I did.”

Oh my god.

“Did you start a war, Seamus?” I whisper.

Rafail’s gaze on me hardens. No one calls him Seamus. I shouldn’t know his name.

“It’s hard to start a war that’s already begun,” Seamus replies, his tone glacial.

Then he turns to me again.

And even now, my traitorous heart expects a flicker of warmth. A softened look. Something .

But his gaze is frozen.

“I said come here, Zoya.”

My legs are made of jelly. But I walk .

“Zoya, come,” he says, gentler. “I won’t hurt you, little lass. I promise. You have my word. Please, just come to me now.”

Polina’s hand is on her mouth. Yana’s watching us both with narrowed eyes. Anya’s pale, her eyes wide.

Everyone watches. Everyone heard him.

So I go. I walk down the aisle. Past my family. Past everything I’ve ever known. Still clutching my flowers to my chest.

Into the arms of Seamus McCarthy.

Knowing what I’ve done. Knowing what this will cost them. Knowing they will never forgive me. That the blowback will be brutal. Unforgiving. Total.

I go to him.

He takes my hand.

Then he turns to the priest and nods once.

“Vows, Father,” he says. “Make it quick.”

Rafail makes a move to come to us.

“Don’t, Kopolov,” Seamus growls, and I see something in him I’ve never seen before, a dark glint in his eyes, the hardened set of his jaw. He’s ready to kill. All of them.

And then he’ll take me away anyway, no matter what it costs.

“Over my dead body,” Rafail growls. “So kill me. But you won’t take my sister. You won’t.”

“No!” I scream. “Enough! ”

I wrench myself away from Seamus, slap at his hands when he reaches for me. And to my shock, he actually stops. He stares at me like he’s never seen me before… and takes a step back.

My brothers freeze, and the whole room goes still.

Everyone, every single person in the goddamn room, is staring at me.

“I will not let you war over me ,” I say, my voice rising.

“No. Enough. Too many people have died already.” My words rip through the silence. “Too many! I won’t risk it. Stop. All of you. Just— stop .”

Silence falls, the kind that weighs heavy, thick, and unbreathable. I feel like I might throw up as I look at my brothers, trembling but resolute.

“Rafail, I’m going to marry Seamus.”

I swallow hard.

“I’m going to marry him… because I love him.”

A startled gasp breaks the quiet. Rafail’s eyes narrow on me, disbelief hardening his face. “Zoya, don’t you?—”

“No!” I scream again, and I think it might be the first time I’ve ever raised my voice to him.

“Stop talking,” I snap, then turn to Seamus, pointing straight at him. “Listen. I didn’t know who he was,” I say, pushing through the weight of grief. “And it breaks my heart to know what he’s done. But I want you to know something. ”

I look at Rafail, and my voice cracks.

“Next to you, there’s no one I trust more.”

The look of betrayal on his face shreds me. Cuts me straight down the center.

“Zoya,” Rafail whispers, confused. Hurt. So damn hurt.

“He’s given everything to come for me,” I say, my tears flowing freely now. I know my mascara’s running, my makeup smeared—but I don’t care. I can’t care. Not now. “I have to stop this war.”

“What are you talking about?” Rafail asks, barely audible. “What do you mean?”

“You heard her, Kopolov,” Seamus says, steady and clear.

“I said I love him.” I lift my chin.

Or I used to, anyway, before he broke my heart.

I glance at Seamus out of the corner of my eye. “He’ll have to prove he’s worthy of my love. He’ll have to prove he didn’t lie to me. He’ll have to prove a hell of a lot.” I let out a shaky breath.

“And I will too,” I whisper. “God, I will too.”

Turning to the priest, I echo Seamus’s words.

“The vows, Father.”

I sniff, wipe my face with the back of my hand, and whisper to myself like a mantra.

I dreamt of Seamus rescuing me. But the fantasy was a lie. It was nothing like this .

In my dreams, he was noble. Kind. In my dreams, he didn’t kill Morozov to get to me.

My god , does the man even have a conscience? I fell in love with Mr. Thursday.

With Seamus.

Is The Undertaker someone I can love too?