Page 92 of Vicious Betrayal

"You're done, Murphy," Brennan murmurs, reaching down to rip my gun from my waistband. "It was a good run, but you're finished now."

28

OKSANA

Istand frozen in the open doorway of the cabin, watching Agent Brennan shove Cormac roughly through the wet weeds. Two officers flank him with rifles raised while Brennan keeps one hand clamped onto Cormac's injured left shoulder, right over the crude stitches I pulled through his flesh.

Cormac stumbles on the muddy slope, his jaw clenching as a sharp grunt of pain rips through his teeth, but he refuses to go down. He keeps his head up, his dark hair plastered to his forehead by the rain, his eyes locking straight onto mine. There's no hatred in his face or anger, just a terrible, agonizing relief.

A ragged sob tears out of my chest before I can swallow it down. My knees buckle, and I have to grab the doorframe just to keep from collapsing onto the porch. He came back.

He came back for me. I gave myself up and lied through my teeth to Reyes, just so he could make it to Chicago and survive. And he threw it all away to walk straight into a federal ambush.

"Inside. Move," Brennan barks, shoving Cormac up the wooden steps.

Cormac crosses the threshold, his boots thudding heavily against the floorboards. The zip-ties around his wrists are pulled so tight the skin of his hands is already turning an angry, mottled purple. When he reaches the center of the room, he stops and turns immediately toward me, ignoring the agents completely. "Oksana," he rasps, his voice rough and strained. "Are you alright? Did they touch you?"

"Shut your mouth, Murphy," Brennan snaps, planting a heavy hand against Cormac's uninjured shoulder and forcing him down onto the chair by the table.

"Cormac..." I choke out, the tears finally spilling over my eyelashes and burning down my cold cheeks. "Why did you come back? Why didn't you just go? You had hours—you could have⁠—"

"I'm not leaving you," he says simply.

"Enough," Reyes cuts in. She walks past me into the cabin. The dark circles under her eyes look bruised in the dim light filtering through the cracked window. She rubs the bridge of her nose, letting out a long, shuddering sigh of pure exhaustion before turning to glare at both of us.

"I am completely finished with these goddamn games," Reyes says, her tone sharp and lethal. "Both of you. You've dragged us through multiple counties and overseas and wasted hours of federal resources with this circus. It ends right now."

"I didn't give you anything," I say, stepping between her and Cormac, my hands curling protectively over my stomach. "He didn't do anything to you out there. You have no right to hold him like this."

Reyes gives me a look of cold pity. "He has a weapon on him that I'm sure is illegal and a stolen car, to start. And we have plenty of charges waiting for him once we get the information we need. Don't play lawyer, Oksana. You're terrible at it."

She turns toward Brennan. "Get the car ready. We're moving them back to Chicago immediately."

"What are you going to do with him?" I demand, panic flaring hot in my throat as I look at Cormac.

"The same thing we were always going to do," Reyes says tiredly. "We're putting Murphy in a federal holding cell. By tomorrow, Declan Murphy will know his top enforcer is sitting in a cell facing years of prison time. We'll use you to pry information out of Cormac, and him to get it from Declan, and so on and so forth."

"Declan won't break for you," Cormac says quietly from the chair. "He'll make sure there's no trace of anything you can use, and protect his men."

"Then that means abandoning you." Reyes shrugs. "You can think about that, and what we'll sentence your wife to, on the ride back. Let's go, Brennan. Keep an eye on them," she adds to the other agents in the room as she and Brennan step outside.

The second the door clicks shut, I fall to my knees in front of Cormac's chair. "I'm sorry," I whisper, sobs wracking me so hard I can barely draw air. I reach out with trembling hands, resting my palms against his thighs and feeling the heat radiating from his body. "I'm so sorry, Cormac. I tried to pull them away. I thought you'd have time to disappear, but you came back…"

"Oksana, look at me," Cormac murmurs, leaning forward as far as his bound wrists will allow. I lift my head, tears blurring the sight of his face. His jaw is tight, his features worn down by exhaustion and pain, but his eyes are steady.

"You didn't do this," he says, his rough Irish brogue turning low and soft, meant only for me. "You were trying to save me. I know that. But I was never going to leave you to these vultures."

"They're going to put you in prison," I choke out, burying my face against his knee. "They're going to lock you away, and they're going to take my father, my brother... everything is ruined. None of it mattered. Nothing I did saved anyone."

"Hey." Cormac shifts. "Listen to me, a chumann. We're still breathing. The baby is safe. We deal with the rest of it one step at a time. Understand?"

I nod against his leg, but the dread in my stomach won't relent. Before I can say another word, the cabin door swings open, and Brennan steps back inside, handcuffs jingling in his hand.

"Time's up," Brennan says. "Separate vehicles. Let's move."

—

The ride back to Chicago feels like I'm heading to my execution.