Page 40 of Forgiveness River

Moss was on his feet now, diving for the gun that had slid beneath a chair. Wyatt launched himself forward, ignoring the burning pain in his arm, his focus narrowed to a single imperative: stop Moss before he could communicate with his team at the ranch.

His shoulder connected with Moss’s midsection just as the man’s fingers closed around the weapon. They crashed through the glass coffee table, shards slicing through clothing and skin.Wyatt barely felt the cuts, adrenaline numbing all but the most urgent signals from his body.

Somehow, impossibly, Moss maintained his grip on the gun. He brought it up, aiming directly at Wyatt’s chest from point-blank range, his face contorted with hatred.

“Should have taken the money and looked the other way, O’Hara,” he snarled. “Now you lose everything.”

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Wyatt could see Moss’s finger tightening on the trigger, could hear the continued fight between his team and Moss’s men across the room, could feel the warm trickle of blood down his arm from the earlier graze.

In that stretched moment, his mind filled with Raven—her smile on their wedding day, the scent of her hair when he held her, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed. The silent promise he’d made to come home to her.

He moved on pure instinct, twisting his body as the gun discharged. The bullet tore through his shoulder instead of his heart, the impact slamming him backward. White-hot pain exploded through his body, but he forced himself forward through sheer will, crashing into Moss with his full weight.

The gun skittered across the floor as they fell. This time, Wyatt didn’t relent. Despite the agony radiating from his shoulder, he pinned Moss to the ground, his knee pressed into the man’s chest, his uninjured arm securing Moss’s hands.

“It’s over,” he growled. “Your operation is shut down. Your shipment is seized. Your men are in custody.”

“My team at the ranch—” Moss began, still defiant.

“Walked straight into our trap,” Wyatt finished for him, the ghost of a smile touching his lips despite the pain. “We wanted them to know exactly where Raven was. The ranch has been prepared for this since yesterday.”

Moss’s face contorted with desperate calculation. “I can still be valuable to you, O’Hara. You haven’t caught everyone.Gregory Weber from the Planning Commission. He’s been my access point for years—property records, building permits, transit routes. He approved the hunting lodge renovation specifically for our operation. He’s got his hands in half the development projects in the county.”

Wyatt committed the name to memory, though he kept his expression unmoved. Weber had been on the Planning Commission for nearly a decade, his signature on countless permits, including the renovations for both The Reading Nook and Raven’s boutique. The respected community figure who’d presented at town council meetings about sustainable development had been facilitating a drug operation through the same channels. Another betrayal to process later, when his shoulder wasn’t burning with white-hot pain.

“Trying to bargain won’t help you now,” Wyatt said, tightening his hold as Moss struggled beneath him. “But thanks for tying up that loose end.”

Through his earpiece, he could hear the confirmation—Tommy’s team had neutralized the threat at the ranch. Raven was safe. The relief nearly made him collapse, the adrenaline that had been sustaining him beginning to ebb.

“Wyatt!” Agent Kwan’s voice cut through the haze of pain. She appeared beside him, quickly cuffing Moss before turning her attention to Wyatt’s injuries. “We need a medic here!”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, though the room had begun to tilt oddly around him.

“You’ve been shot, and you’ve got glass embedded in half your body,” Kwan countered dryly. “Your definition of fine needs work.”

The rest of the room came into focus as the immediate threat subsided. His team had subdued the other men, the great room now a battlefield of broken furniture, shattered glass, and blood-smeared marble.

“Bravo team, report status,” he managed, trying to stay upright as Kwan applied pressure to his shoulder wound.

“All hostile elements contained,” came the response. “Area secure.”

The relief was overwhelming, but one concern overrode all others. He reached for his comm unit with his good hand. “Command center, what’s your status? Raven, do you copy?”

The seconds of silence stretched unbearably before her voice came through, clear and steady despite the undercurrent of worry. “We’re secure. Tommy’s team has three hostiles in custody. What’s your status, Bravo leader?”

Despite the pain, despite the blood loss that was making the room spin around him, Wyatt smiled. “Mission accomplished. Coming home.”

He never felt himself hit the floor.

Raven’s heart stopped when Wyatt’s comm went silent. One moment his voice had been there—strained but triumphant—and the next, nothing. Just the background sounds of agents calling for medical assistance, the controlled urgency in their voices telling her more than words could have.

“Blaze,” she said frantically, and then she put her hand to her head, trying to force her brain to work. “I mean Bravo team, status report on Agent O’Hara.” Her fingers were white knuckled on the edge of the desk. “Please.”

It wasn’t Blaze who answered. “Agent down, medic en route,” came the clipped response. “GSW to right shoulder. Stable but unconscious.”

The clinical assessment did nothing to ease the vise grip of fear around her heart. Gunshot wound. Unconscious. But alive. She clung to that last word like a lifeline.

The door to the command center burst open, and Anne rushed in, her face pale with concern. “The team at the north gate has three of Moss’s men in custody,” she reported. “Tommy says they never even made it past the first line of defense. What’s happening with Wyatt?”

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