Chapter 41 Thomas
Thomas
Failure was a word used by men who didn’t plan far enough ahead.
Thomas preferred the word adjustment.
He stood at the window of the villa overlooking the lights of the city below, a glass of untouched whiskey in his hand. Dawn was breaking somewhere far north—over trees and mountains and places his enemies believed made them unreachable.
They were wrong.
The man behind him shifted nervously.
“They cleared the facility,” the man said. “Every position. Clean. Professional.”
Thomas didn’t turn.
Of course, they had.
Rangers didn’t panic. They didn’t gloat. They corrected mistakes with bullets and moved on.
“What about the woman?” Thomas asked.
“Alive,” the man replied. “Injured, but alive. She fought.”
That earned a slow smile.
“She would,” Thomas murmured. “You don’t put steel into concrete unless the concrete is already cracked.”
The man swallowed. “We lost three guys.”
“Yes,” Thomas said calmly. “And we learned.”
He finally turned, fixing the man with a gaze that had ended careers—and lives.
“Did they move her?”
“Yes. Off-grid. Forested region. Limited access routes.”
Thomas nodded once. “Good.”
The man blinked. “Good?”
“They’re confident,” Thomas explained. “Confident men get predictable.”
He crossed the room and set the glass down untouched, then picked up a tablet from the desk. On the screen was a grainy still image—thermal, pulled from a drone feed no one knew existed.
A cabin.
A clearing.
Heat signatures that told him exactly how many men stood watch.
And one that mattered far more than the rest.
“There,” Thomas said, tapping the screen lightly. “That’s her.”
The man leaned closer. “You sent someone in?”
“Not in,” Thomas corrected. “Near.”
He zoomed the image slightly. “I didn’t need access. I needed confirmation.”
“And?”
Thomas’s smile sharpened.
“She’s not just a target anymore,” he said. “She’s my revenge.”
The man hesitated. “The Rangers won’t negotiate.”
“They won’t,” Thomas agreed. “Which is why we won’t ask.”
He turned away again, hands clasped behind his back.
“They embarrassed us,” Thomas continued. “They took men who belonged to me. They exposed my operation.”
His voice remained level. Almost bored.
“That requires a response.”
The man shifted. “What kind?”
Thomas considered.
Not a rush.
Not brute force.
Not yet.
“We strip their illusion of safety,” he said finally. “We remind them that mountains and badges don’t matter.”
He glanced back over his shoulder. “And then we take something they can’t replace.”
The man’s face went pale. “The woman?”
Thomas smiled.
“No,” he said softly. “That would be too easy.”
He tapped the screen once more, eyes fixed on the heat signature that had followed hers everywhere.
“The man who loves her,” Thomas continued. “We make him choose.”
He turned the tablet off.
Outside, the town of Eagle River woke to another ordinary day—unaware of the decision that had just been made.
Thomas didn’t need speed.
He had time.
And time, used correctly…
Was far deadlier than violence.