Page 35 of Forgiveness River

Relief washed across his features. “The O’Haras can be overwhelming on a good day, but when they’re in protection mode—” He shook his head, a fond smile playing at his lips. “Let’s just say I almost feel sorry for Moss.”

Raven laughed, the sound lighter than it had been in weeks. “Almost?”

“Almost,” he confirmed, his expression hardening momentarily. “The man sent his thugs after my wife. Pity isn’t high on my list of emotions for him.”

The grandfather clock in the O’Hara ranch house struck noon, its deep chimes echoing through rooms now transformed by urgency and purpose. Rain tapped against the windows, the steady rhythm a counterpoint to the tense voices within. Asummer storm was building, dark clouds gathering over the mountains like harbingers of what was to come.

Raven stood in the doorway of Mick’s study, watching as the O’Hara men gathered around maps spread across the massive oak desk. The comfortable space where she’d spent countless hours as a teenager—reading in the window seat while Wyatt did homework at the desk—had been converted into a tactical headquarters.

“This is where Moss is most likely operating from,” Wyatt said, his finger tracing the outline of Blackwell’s hunting lodge on the topographical map. Despite the civilian clothes he now wore, his posture and focus were pure DEA agent.

Blaze nodded, leaning in to study the location. “Three access roads, all easily monitored. Defensible position, clear sight lines to anyone approaching.”

“Not if they come through here,” Duncan interjected, tapping a narrow trail marked on the map. “This deer path. Almost invisible unless you know it’s there.”

Growing up on the ranch, they’d all learned to handle firearms from an early age—a necessity when wild predators threatened livestock. Years of building fences, barns, and outbuildings had given them an innate understanding of structural weaknesses and defensive positions. And Tommy’s military expertise had filtered down through family camping trips that doubled as survival training and hunting expeditions that taught them to move silently through difficult terrain.

Wyatt nodded, his eyes meeting his brother’s. “You’re sure it’s still there? It’s been years since we hunted that ridge.”

“Some things don’t change,” Duncan replied with quiet certainty. “The land remembers, even if people forget.”

Raven moved closer to the map, studying the terrain. Her boutique experience hadn’t prepared her for tactical planning, but a lifetime in these mountains had given her an innateunderstanding of the landscape. “This approach would keep you below the ridgeline,” she noted, tracing the path with her finger. “Invisible from the main house.”

Wyatt nodded, his eyes meeting hers briefly. “Good eye. That’s our best approach.”

The moment passed quickly, but something in his glance—a flash of recognition, perhaps—reminded her of how they used to work together, finishing each other’s thoughts before secrets had come between them.

“If I may interrupt this touching moment,” Aidan said from the doorway, though his teasing held an undertone of affection, “the surveillance gear Tommy requested is set up. We’ve got eyes on both the Murphy cabin and the access roads to the hunting lodge.”

Tommy might be a rancher by trade, but decades of protecting his land and livestock had honed instincts that rivaled professional security experts. His military background made him the natural choice to coordinate their defensive strategy.

They moved as a group to the living room, where Tommy had transformed the space into a command center. Screens displayed camera feeds from strategic locations, while communication equipment stood ready on the coffee table. Aidan’s mechanical genius had been redirected from luxury cars to surveillance systems with surprising ease—his understanding of engines and electronics translating seamlessly to security tech.

“Moss’s men are still watching the boutique,” Hank reported, gesturing to one of the screens showing the storefront Raven had built from the ground up. His years running construction crews had given him a natural authority and organizational skill that proved invaluable in coordinating their various teams. “Two in the sedan across the street, one at the café with line of sight to both entrances.”

“Good,” Wyatt said, surprising her. “We want them focused there. The longer they think Raven’s following her normal routine, the better our advantage.”

Raven felt a chill at seeing her shop under surveillance, men with unknown intentions watching and waiting. This wasn’t an abstract threat anymore—it was real, immediate, targeting not just Wyatt but her. She wrapped her arms around herself, suppressing a shiver.

Wyatt noticed—he always noticed, even now—and moved to her side. “They won’t get near you again,” he promised, his voice low and fierce. “Not while there’s breath in my body.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” she admitted, meeting his gaze. “This is bigger than us now.”

Anne entered the room carrying a tray of coffee mugs, her silver-streaked hair pulled back in a practical braid. Despite the circumstances, she moved with the calm efficiency that had defined her through decades of ranch emergencies, family crises, and the daily chaos of raising five headstrong boys.

“Drink,” she instructed, handing mugs to each of them. “Planning on empty stomachs leads to poor decisions. Food’s coming next.”

“Mom, we don’t have time—” Colt began. His medical training had made him the family’s default emergency responder long before he officially became a doctor, and now he was organizing first aid stations throughout the ranch.

“You’ll make time,” she cut him off, her blue eyes brooking no argument. “I’ve watched this family face everything from blizzards to wildfires to that mess with the Anderson property line. Never once did skipping meals improve the outcome.”

Mick chuckled from his position by the fireplace, the sound warm despite the tension in the room. “Best to listen to your mother, boys. Forty years of marriage has taught me that much.”

The small moment of normalcy eased something tight in Raven’s chest. The O’Haras had faced challenges before. They would face this one too—together, as family.

Sophie appeared at her side, offering a plate of Anne’s famous cinnamon rolls. “Eat,” she said quietly. “She’s right about needing your strength.”

Raven accepted the pastry gratefully. “How are you so calm about all this?”

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