Page 38 of Forgiveness River

“I’ll always need it,” he said simply.

They rejoined the others in the living room, where final preparations were underway. Equipment checked, communications tested, assignments confirmed. The easy banter of earlier had given way to focused efficiency, each person understanding their role in the complex operation about to unfold.

“Ninety minutes to synchronization,” Blaze announced, checking his watch. “Transport teams move out now to reach position.”

Wyatt turned to Raven, his eyes saying what words couldn’t in that moment. She straightened his tactical vest, a small, domestic gesture in the midst of their extraordinary circumstances.

And then he was gone, striding into the rain with his team, the door closing behind him with quiet finality.

Raven took a deep breath, turning to face the command center that would be her post for the next several hours. Anne stood nearby, her expression a mixture of pride and worry that Raven recognized from her own reflection.

“Now we do the hardest part,” Anne said quietly.

“What’s that?”

“We wait,” Anne replied, her hand finding Raven’s. “And we trust.”

Outside, the storm intensified, rain beating against the windows in a steady rhythm. Inside, Raven took her place at the communications hub, surrounded by O’Haras who had become her family, preparing to guide her husband through darkness toward whatever light awaited on the other side.

She was exactly where she needed to be. And for the first time in months, that knowledge felt like strength rather than surrender.

“Ranch command online,” she said into her headset, her voice clear and professional. “All teams, check in.”

The operation had begun.

Chapter Fourteen

Darkness clungto the mountains like a lover unwilling to let go, the predawn air sharp with the scent of pine and approaching rain. The O’Hara ranch hummed with quiet efficiency—voices kept low, movements precise, the atmosphere charged with purpose and adrenaline.

Raven stood at the command center they’d established in Mick’s study, multiple screens glowing with camera feeds and topographical maps bathing her face in bluish light. Her fingers moved across the keyboard with practiced efficiency, checking and rechecking the communication system that would keep all teams connected. She wore black—not from any tactical necessity, but because it felt right for the gravity of the day that stretched before them.

“Ranch command online,” she said, her voice clear and professional. “Family security team, check in.”

Tommy and the ranch protection detail confirmed their positions, while a separate feed from Blaze provided limited updates on the sheriff’s department perimeter team. The DEA operation itself ran on a separate, secure channel—Raven could see the basic positioning on a shared tactical map that Blazehad authorized, but the federal teams maintained their own communications network.

She watched the limited data available to her—enough to know that Wyatt’s team was approaching Blackwell’s hunting lodge, that Kwan’s agents were surrounding the Murphy cabin. Her fingers hovered over keys that would relay any threat information to the family security team, her eyes constantly scanning the ranch surveillance feeds for any sign of movement.

And the operation began.

Blackwell’s hunting lodge loomed against the pale dawn sky, its glass and stone façade glowing with the first golden rays of sunlight. From his position among the dense pines that surrounded the property, Wyatt had a clear view of the main structure and the two black SUVs parked in the circular drive.

“Two vehicles confirmed,” he murmured into his comm. “Matching the make and model Hammer reported from previous surveillance.”

“Copy that,” Kwan’s voice came through, crisp and professional. “We’ve got movement at the Murphy cabin. Counting four tangos unloading crates from a delivery truck. Operation proceeds on schedule.”

Wyatt signaled to the team spread out among the trees—DEA agents interspersed with highly trained deputies from Blaze’s department. Through his scope, he could see movement inside the hunting lodge—shadows passing behind the massive windows, the occasional flash of light on metal.

“Moss is inside,” he confirmed. “I’ve got visual on the subject through the east window. He appears to be monitoring something on a laptop.”

“Boutique surveillance feed shows Moss’s men still in position,” Raven’s voice came through his earpiece, sending an unexpected wave of comfort through him. “Two in a sedan across the street, one positioned at the coffee shop with line of sight to the front entrance.”

“They’re buying the decoy,” Blaze added. “Continue as planned.”

Wyatt checked his watch. Five minutes until synchronized breach—Kwan’s team at the Murphy cabin, his at the hunting lodge. Five minutes that stretched like an eternity as he watched Moss move through the great room, occasionally speaking to someone out of sight.

“Command center to all teams,” Raven’s voice came suddenly, a new tension evident. “We’ve got new vehicle movement on the north road approaching the Murphy cabin. Black van, no plates, moving fast.”

“Unauthorized approach,” Kwan confirmed. “Possible reinforcements for the targets.”

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