Page 33 of Forgiveness River

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I’ve got you, and I’m never letting go again.”

The safe house turned out to be a cabin on the far side of the lake where Forgiveness River emptied into the crystal-clear waters—rustic but comfortable, with a stone fireplace and sturdy locks on every door and window. Through the large picture window, Raven could see the river’s gentle current, its waters shimmering silver in the moonlight.

The locals called it Forgiveness River for a reason that varied depending on who told the story—some said it was where old feuds were settled, others claimed its waters had healing properties for broken hearts. Tonight, its whispered flow seemed almost prophetic. Wyatt’s precautions hadn’t stopped at location; he’d swept the entire place for bugs, checked sight lines from each approach, and posted a deputy on the road half a mile back.

Raven sat wrapped in a thick blanket on the sofa, a mug of tea warming her hands as she watched Wyatt pace the length of the main room. He’d been on the phone since they arrived, his conversations terse and laden with jargon she only partially understood.

When he finally ended the last call, he turned to her, exhaustion and relief warring in his features.

“Moss’s men are in custody,” he reported, crossing to sit beside her. “They’re not talking yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Moss himself hasn’t been apprehended, but we’ve identified his most likely hideout.”

“So it’s not over,” Raven said quietly, studying the play of emotions across his face. She could read them now, the nuances she’d missed when distrust had clouded her vision.

“No. But it will be soon.” Wyatt took her hands in his, his thumb brushing over the red marks where the zip ties had cut into her skin. The tenderness of the gesture contrasted sharply with the controlled violence she’d witnessed in the alley. “What happened tonight changes everything. Moss has escalated by targeting you directly. The DEA is accelerating the timeline. Within forty-eight hours, this ends—one way or another.”

The gravity of his words hung between them. For the first time, Raven truly understood the danger Wyatt had been facing these past months—the double life he’d been living, the constant vigilance, the impossible choices.

“Tell me everything,” she said softly. “I need to know what we’re up against.”

And so he did. For the next hour, he laid out the entire operation—how he’d been approached by the DEA through Blaze, how he’d infiltrated Moss’s network by posing as a corrupt officer willing to look the other way, how he’d been gathering evidence against one of the largest drug operations in the Northwest.

“The Murphy cabin is one of their distribution points,” he explained, confirming what Duncan had witnessed. “I was meeting with Moss’s lieutenants there, supposedly to coordinate safe passage for their shipments. In reality, I was mapping their network, identifying key players.”

“And the woman at the café?” Raven asked, needing to hear it again, to replace suspicion with certainty.

“Agent Melissa Kwan, my DEA handler.” Wyatt’s eyes held hers, steady and unwavering. “She was delivering intel on the upcoming shipment—the largest we’ve seen, scheduled to arrive tomorrow night. That’s what this whole operation has been building toward.”

Raven absorbed this, the pieces finally aligning into a coherent picture. “Why couldn’t you tell me any of this? I would have understood, Wyatt. I would have supported you.”

Pain crossed his features. “DEA protocols for undercover operations are strict for a reason. The more people who know, the greater the risk of compromise. But more than that—” He drew a deep breath. “I was terrified that if Moss ever suspected I wasn’t who I claimed to be, he’d use you as leverage. Tonight proved those fears were justified.”

“So instead of trusting me with the truth, you pushed me away,” Raven concluded, understanding dawning with bittersweet clarity. “You thought you were protecting me.”

“I was wrong,” Wyatt admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “I thought distance would keep you safe, but all it did was leave you vulnerable and alone. If I’d been honest with you from the beginning, found a way to keep you informed while maintaining operational security, maybe tonight would never have happened.”

“Maybe not,” she agreed. “But we’re here now. Together. And that’s what matters.”

His hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch achingly gentle. “Can you ever forgive me, Raven? For the lies, the secrets, the distance I put between us?”

Instead of answering, she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that spoke of forgiveness, reconciliation, and a love too profound to be easily broken. His response was immediate,his arms encircling her, drawing her against his chest as the kiss deepened into something hungry and healing all at once.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Raven rested her forehead against his. “No more secrets,” she whispered. “No more shields that become walls. Promise me, Wyatt.”

“I promise,” he vowed, his hands framing her face. “Everything I am, everything I have, is yours. No more barriers between us. Ever.”

The next kiss was different—urgent, desperate, laden with the weight of all they’d nearly lost. Months of separation, of loneliness and doubt, dissolved beneath the heat of reconnection. Wyatt’s hands trembled as they moved over her body, relearning curves and planes they’d once known by heart.

“I need you,” he murmured against her throat, his voice raw with longing. “God, Raven, I’ve needed you every day, every night.”

“I’m here,” she assured him, her fingers tangling in his hair, drawing him closer. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Their lips met again, a kiss that held all the longing of their weeks apart, all the promises for their future. As the moonlight spilled through the curtains, casting silver shadows across the room, they reconnected in the most intimate way, healing wounds that words alone couldn’t mend.

Later, as they lay tangled in each other’s arms, the first hints of dawn were beginning to lighten the sky outside. Wyatt’s fingers traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder, his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he admitted, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. “When you moved out, when you left that note—I’ve never been so scared, not even in combat.”

Raven pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “You almost did lose me. Not because I stopped loving you, but because I couldn’t live with the walls between us.”

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