Chapter 29 - Operation Cross-Border
Within four hours of Elena’s dramatic intrusion into our dining room, the operational machinery of Raven Hill shifted into overdrive.
We didn't wait for federal permission, and we didn't rely on slow-moving bureaucratic extradition channels. By midnight, a private twin-engine Gulfstream jet sat idling on the hidden airstrip carved into the northern perimeter of the estate, fueled and prepped for an unauthorized transatlantic flight to Croatia.
Inside the armory, the air smelled of gun oil, cordite, and cold steel.
I stood before a heavy workbench, sliding a custom 9mm Sig Sauer into my shoulder holster, pulling the leather straps tight across the back of my tailored silk blouse. Over it, I slipped a dark tactical utility vest designed for high-mobility infiltration.
Footsteps echoed heavily behind me.
Ronan walked out of the weapons locker wearing full tactical gear—black combat trousers, a reinforced ceramic plate carrier over a dark compression shirt, and a suppressed tactical rifle slung securely across his chest. He looked like an apex predator stepping out of the shadows, radiating a dark, lethal aura that would have made even seasoned mercenaries run for cover.
He stopped directly behind me, his large hands resting gently on my hips, pulling me flush against his hard chest.
“You’re staying in Vienna, Thea,” Ronan said, his voice dropping into a low, commanding growl that brooked no argument. “You’ll coordinate the satellite uplink from a secure safehouse while my tactical enforcers handle the extraction in Zagreb.”
I turned around in his arms, looking up into his stormy gray eyes with absolute defiance.
“We’ve had this conversation before, Mr. Cain,” I reminded him, my voice completely level. “I am not a trophy wife you lock in a tower while you go out to play war. David Vance’s shell company files are encrypted with a dual-key algorithmic cipher that only my former auditing software can crack in real-time. If I stay in Vienna, you won't even be able to open his laptop before he wipes the hard drives.”
Ronan’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently. He hated the risk. He hated the thought of putting me in the crosshairs of an active syndicate cross-fire. But he also knew I was entirely right.
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“If you take one step away from my six during this op,” Ronan growled, pressing his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin, “I’ll zip-tie you to a chair in the private jet and fly you straight back to my mother.”
“Deal,” I murmured, rising onto my tiptoes and pressing a fierce, unyielding kiss to his lips. “Just make sure you watch my back, too.”
