Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Morning sunlight streamed through the cabin windows, painting golden patterns across the rumpled sheets. Raven woke slowly, momentarily disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings until the events of the previous night came rushing back—the attempted kidnapping, Wyatt’s rescue, their passionate reconciliation by Forgiveness River.
She turned her head to find Wyatt already awake, propped on one elbow, watching her with an expression caught between wonder and uncertainty. A tentative silence hung between them, their newfound closeness suddenly fragile in the harsh light of day.
“Hi,” she said softly, pulling the sheet higher over her bare shoulders.
“Hi,” he echoed, his voice morning rough. A lock of sandy hair fell across his forehead, making him look younger, more vulnerable than the tactical agent who had taken down three armed men the night before. “How did you sleep?”
Such a mundane question after everything they’d shared, everything they’d confessed. Raven couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. “Really? That’s what you’re going with after last night?”
A slow smile spread across his face, easing the tension. “Would you prefer, ‘Good morning, wife who until recently wasn’t speaking to me but who I just spent the night making love to for the first time in months’?”
“Much better,” she teased, though her cheeks flushed at the memory of their reunion. She’d forgotten how easily they could slip from intensity to laughter and back again—one of the foundations of their relationship since childhood.
His smile faded, replaced by something more serious as he reached out to trace the curve of her cheek with calloused fingertips. “I missed you. Not just physically—though God knows I missed that too—but this. Waking up to you. Seeing your face first thing in the morning.”
“I missed you too,” she admitted, turning her face to press a kiss against his palm. “Even when I was furious with you, I still reached for your side of the bed every night.”
The confession seemed to pierce him. His eyes darkened, and he leaned forward to kiss her—a gentle brush of lips, a promise rather than a demand.
When they separated, the awkwardness had dissipated, replaced by a tentative peace. Raven stretched, wincing slightly at the pleasant soreness in muscles that hadn’t been used in too long.
“As much as I’d like to stay here all day,” Wyatt said, reluctance evident in his voice, “we need to move. Blaze called while you were sleeping. The family’s gathering at the ranch to coordinate our response to Moss.”
Reality crashed back, the bubble of their reconciliation giving way to the danger that still loomed. “Your family knows about the operation now?”
“Blaze filled them in on the basics,” Wyatt confirmed, sitting up and reaching for his discarded shirt. “But they need to hear the full story from me—from us. And we need their help. The ranch is the most defensible position we have, and with Moss targeting you directly…”
He didn’t need to finish the thought. Raven nodded, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “How much time do we have?”
“Blaze is sending a detail to escort us. They’ll be here in thirty minutes.” Wyatt’s gaze swept over her, a mixture of appreciation and concern. “You okay with this? Facing the family together, I mean?”
The question held layers of meaning. Not just about confronting external threats, but about presenting a united front after months of estrangement.
“I am,” she said, surprised to find she meant it. “They deserve to know the truth. All of it. And I’d rather face Moss with your family behind us than try to handle this alone.”
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. A summer 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 innate understanding 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?”
“Who says I’m calm?” Sophie replied with a rueful smile. “My hands haven’t stopped shaking since Hank told me what happened at your boutique. But falling apart won’t help anyone, especially not you and Wyatt.”
Across the room, Wyatt was deep in conversation with Blaze and Tommy, their heads bent over a tablet displaying what looked like blueprints of the hunting lodge. His expression was focused, his posture tense but controlled—the trained agent rather than the husband she’d been estranged from.
“He’s good at this,” Sophie noted, following Raven’s gaze. “You can see it in the way the others defer to him, even Blaze with all his sheriff authority.”
“He always has been,” Raven said softly. “Even when we were kids, he was the one with the plans, the strategies. It’s what made him excel in the military and later with the DEA.” She paused, a realization dawning. “I just never thought those skills would be needed here. In our home. For our safety.”
“No one ever does,” Simone said, appearing beside them with fresh coffee. Her expression softened as she looked at Raven. “When Tommy was deployed, I’d lie awake imagining every possible danger, planning how I’d protect the family if those dangers ever followed him home.” She glanced toward her husband, love evident in her eyes. “Not once did it occur to me to regret loving a man with a dangerous job.”
“I don’t regret loving Wyatt,” Raven said firmly. “I never could. I just?—”
“Regret the secrets,” Simone finished for her. “The distance they created. The trust they damaged.”
Raven nodded, her throat tight with emotion.
“That’s what you rebuild first,” Simone advised, her voice gentle but firm. “When this is over. When you’re both safe. The rest will follow.”
“I need to borrow my wife for a minute,” Wyatt said, approaching them. “Tactical planning.”
Simone nodded, her hand briefly squeezing Raven’s shoulder before she moved away. Sophie followed after giving Raven an encouraging smile.
Wyatt led her to a quieter corner of the room, his voice low as he outlined his concerns. “I don’t want you at the command center here at the ranch.”
Raven stiffened. “We agreed?—”
“I know what we agreed,” he cut in, his voice low and urgent. “But that was before I saw the satellite images Blaze just received. Moss has more men than we anticipated. The risk level has increased significantly.”
“All the more reason for me to be involved,” she countered. “You need every person you can get.”
“What I need,” Wyatt said, taking her hands in his, “is to know you’re safe. Truly safe. Not just relatively safe behind ranch security.”
She studied his face, reading the fear beneath his professional composure. “And where would that be, if not here with your family?”
“The safe house on Forgiveness River. The one the DEA established for witness protection. Kwan has a team ready to transport you there now.”
Raven pulled her hands from his. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Raven—”
“Don’t ‘Raven’ me,” she said, keeping her voice low despite her rising anger. “We’re past that, Wyatt. Way past it. We agreed to face this together. As partners. As equals.”
“This isn’t about equality or partnership,” he insisted, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. “It’s about keeping you alive. If anything happened to you?—”
“If anything happened to me, it would be my choice,” she finished for him. “My informed choice. After months of being kept in the dark, I finally understand what we’re facing. And I choose to face it by your side, not hidden away while you risk your life.”
His expression softened, the professional mask slipping to reveal the man beneath—her husband, the boy who’d shared his blue crayon in kindergarten, the teenager who’d climbed a radio tower to ask her to prom, the man who’d vowed to love her through all of life’s storms.
“I just got you back,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “The thought of losing you again?—”
“You won’t,” she promised, reaching up to touch his face. “But Wyatt, separating now, after everything we’ve been through to find our way back to each other—that would be its own kind of loss. Don’t ask me to accept that. Not when we’ve come this far.”
He covered her hand with his own, turning to press a kiss to her palm. The gesture was achingly tender, a contrast to the danger surrounding them. “You’re the strongest person I know,” he said finally. “Always have been.”
“Not stronger than us together,” she replied. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
A throat cleared behind them. They turned to find Blaze waiting, his expression apologetic but determined. “We need to finalize the approach strategy,” he said to Wyatt. “Kwan’s team is in position at the Murphy cabin, awaiting your arrival to coordinate the synchronized breach.”
Wyatt nodded, his hand finding Raven’s again. “Show me.”
They returned to the tactical displays, where the family had gathered around a 3-D rendering of Blackwell’s hunting lodge. Tommy pointed out entry points while Duncan described the interior based on his memory from a charity event held there the previous year.
“The great room has twenty-foot ceilings with those floor-to-ceiling windows,” Duncan explained, his artist’s hands sketching quick details on a notepad. The artist’s eye that made him exceptional with a brush also made him exceptional at finding what others missed. “Beautiful for views, terrible for defense. Anyone inside is visible from three angles on the approach.”
“Unless the weather cooperates,” Hank noted, glancing toward the windows where clouds had begun gathering on the horizon. “Storm’s coming in. Could provide cover if it hits during the operation.”
“Or create complications with visibility and communication,” Colt countered. “We need to prepare for either scenario.”
Raven watched them work, these brothers who’d grown up racing through pine forests and building forts by the river, now using those same bonds and shared instincts to protect their own. The tactical discussion continued, but beneath the terminology and strategies, she sensed something else—the unshakable foundation of family that had withstood generations of challenges.
And she was part of it. Not just as Wyatt’s wife, but as herself—Raven O’Hara, a woman with her own strength and determination, her own stake in this fight.
“The communication hub will be here,” Blaze said, pointing to a diagram of the ranch house. “Secured lines, real-time updates, family protection detail with Tommy coordinating.”
“I’ll manage the comms,” Raven said, stepping forward. All eyes turned to her, and she felt Wyatt tense beside her. But she continued with confidence born of years running her own business. “I have experience coordinating multiple suppliers and shipments across time zones. Different context, same skill set. I can keep information flowing while you focus on the tactical elements.”
A moment of silence followed her offer. Then Tommy nodded, respect evident in his expression. “Makes sense. We need someone with a clear head who can prioritize incoming information and relay it to the right teams.”
“Are you sure?” Wyatt asked her quietly. Not challenging, not doubting—simply confirming.
“I’m sure,” she replied, meeting his gaze steadily. “I need to be part of this. Not as a liability to protect, but as an asset to utilize.”
Something shifted in his expression—pride, love, and a new respect all mingled together. He turned to the others. “Raven will coordinate from the command center here. She’ll be our central point of contact for all teams.”
The planning continued with renewed focus, roles assigned based on skills rather than sentiment. The O’Haras were known for their second chances. It was practically a family tradition.
Hours later, as the tactical gear was checked one final time and communication channels tested, Raven found herself alone with Wyatt in the kitchen. He stood by the window, watching the rain pattern against the glass, his profile outlined by the fading afternoon light.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she said softly, coming to stand beside him.
He turned, meeting her gaze. “I was thinking about the time mom made that pie and had you bring it outside. You were maybe sixteen. And the dogs rushed you and you dropped it trying to dodge them.”
“And your brothers wrestled the dogs away and salvaged what they could,” she remembered, laughing despite the tension of the day. “And they still ate it. Colt said the five-second rule extended to ten for homemade desserts.”
“You’ve always fit in this family,” he said. “You’ve always belonged.”
Raven leaned toward him slightly, drawing strength from his presence. “We’re going to get through this,” she said, not a question but a statement of fact.
“Yes, we are,” he agreed. “And then we start rebuilding. For real this time.”
“No more motels on the outskirts of town?” she asked, a hint of their old teasing in her voice.
“No more anything that puts distance between us,” he promised, his expression serious despite her lightness. “When this is over, when Moss is in custody and the threat is eliminated, we start fresh. A clean slate.”
“Not clean,” she corrected gently. “I don’t want to erase what we’ve been through, Wyatt. The pain was real. The distance was real. We acknowledge it, learn from it, and build something stronger because of it.”
His smile was slow and warm, reaching his eyes in a way she hadn’t seen in too long. “When did you get so wise?”
“Somewhere between finding a motel receipt in your pocket and watching you take down three armed men to save me,” she replied with a small smile. “Turns out, mortal danger is clarifying.”
He sobered at the reminder of how close they’d come to losing each other. “About tomorrow,” he began.
“Don’t,” she interrupted, placing her fingers against his lips. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Don’t tell me you’ll be careful when we both know you’ll do whatever it takes to stop Moss.” She replaced her fingers with her lips, kissing him softly. “Just come back to me. That’s enough.”
The sound of multiple vehicles approaching interrupted the moment. Through the window, they saw the DEA convoy arriving, agents in tactical gear emerging into the light rain that had begun to fall.
“It’s time,” Wyatt said, reluctance evident in his voice.
Raven nodded, stepping back though their hands remained linked. “I’ll be right here. Your voice in the dark if you need it.”
“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.