Chapter 63 Ronan
Ronan
Location: Command Room — Lisbon
Time: Night
“They’re moving.”
The words hit the room like a trigger.
Not political movement.
Not legal maneuvering.
This is different.
This is fast.
Silent.
Final.
I’m already pulling the feeds.
Tracking anomalies across multiple systems at once.
And then I see it.
Assets detaching.
Not flagged.
Not reassigned.
Removed.
Gone from official channels—
only to reappear seconds later under shell routing.
Untraceable.
Unaccountable.
Weaponized.
“Black teams,” I say.
My voice is flat now.
Focused.
Locked in.
“Not law enforcement. Not military.”
I isolate one signal.
Then another.
Then three more.
“They’re contract.”
Aaron’s voice cuts through. “Coming here?”
“Yes.”
I don’t hesitate.
Because the pattern is already clear.
“And not just here.”
I throw the map onto the main screen.
It expands.
Five vectors.
Five cities.
Simultaneous.
Coordinated.
Precision strikes.
Not random.
Never random.
One of them—
points directly at us.
“They’re trying to cut the head off the story,” I say.
I zoom in.
Highlight the paths.
The timing.
The kill windows.
“And the mouth.”
Silence grips the room.
Because now—
this isn’t exposure anymore.
This is retaliation.
Lark doesn’t look away from the screens.
Not even for a second.
“They’re going to try to kill me,” she says calmly.
Aaron steps closer to her.
Solid.
Unmoving.
“No,” he replies.
A beat.
His voice lowers.
Dead certain.
“They’re going to try.”
That’s the difference.
Not outcome.
Attempt.
Because now—
we’re not reacting.
We’re preparing.
I shift the board.
Re-route internal security.
Lock down access points.
“Time to contact,” I say.
Numbers start populating.
Fast.
Too fast.
“First team—eight minutes out.”
A beat.
“Second—twelve.”
We move to another room.
The room tightens.
Weapons check.
Positions shift.
Everyone knows what this means.
We just broke the system.
Now—
it’s coming to break us.