Page 90 of His Forced Irish Mafia Bride

I read it once and understood enough. Someone spoke behind me, but I didn’t process the words right away. My focus stayed locked on the screen as the structure finished forming in real time. Another feed appeared beside it.

An intercepted comms fragment loaded. The audio was clipped and broken, but clear enough to understand.

“Anton wants it clean. No deviation. No contact until transfer complete.”

I exhaled once through my nose, slow and controlled. My reaction wasn’t relief or shock.

It was alignment. Everything I’d been tracking stopped feeling like fragments. It formed a direction. Maeve wasn’t missing.

She’d been taken. By Samuel Anton.

A voice behind me mentioned escalation protocols. I didn’t turn toward it.

“Hold them,” I said. The room went quiet.

I stepped closer to the screen. The access list still showed names, but they mattered less now. What mattered was how everything connected.

Declan’s removal. The corridor gap. The timing window. The extraction route.

Anton was attempting to destabilize me by taking my wife, now that he no longer had Declan on the inside.

What remained was a clear structure of action and response. I picked up the phone and made one direct call. It connected immediately.

“Anton has her,” I said.

The reply came after a short pause, and I listened carefully to every word.

I ended the call and placed the phone down. The room stayed quiet, waiting for a reaction I didn’t give.

The next step was deciding how far I was willing to go to take her back.

Her location arrived on a locked channel with no conversation attached. Only coordinates appeared on the screen.

I didn’t ask how my contact got it. I didn’t need an explanation anymore.

The point on the map sat outside the main city routes, in an old warehouse sector. The area still carried enough activity to avoid suspicion, but it stayed quiet enough to hide suspicious movement. Maeve was there. That mattered more than anything else.

I turned the screen off. “Prepare for extraction,” I said.

No one asked questions. No one argued. They simply moved.

Weapon cases opened on the table. The work looked ordinary, like routine preparation rather than somethingheavier. Guns were taken out, checked, and loaded without talk or delay.

A magazine slid across the table with a sharp sound. I picked it up without looking away from the room.

“Plan?” someone asked.

“Two teams,” I said. “No separation. No noise.”

Everyone understood what that meant. There was no follow-up discussion. We just left.

Outside, vehicles waited in a line with engines off. No headlights. No signals. Just silence and readiness.

I got into the lead car. No one spoke inside it. The convoy moved out slowly at first, then increased speed once we cleared the first checkpoint.

The city passed by outside the windows without drawing attention to itself. Lights, roads, and buildings all moved in the same steady rhythm, unaware of what was building at its edges. I checked my gun once, then set it down again. Anton had made a mistake.

I looked forward and kept my focus steady. “Confirm perimeter breach points,” I said through comms.