Chapter 79 Chapter Seventy-eight
ARA
Thayne's private jet cut through the night sky like a blade, the engines a low, steady growl that drowned out everything except the thud of my own heartbeat.
Thayne hadn’t spoken since takeoff. He sat across from me in the cream leather seat, the sleeves rolled up, staring out the window into absolute darkness.
The cabin lights were dimmed low, casting sharp shadows across his face, making the tension in his jaw look even more unforgiving.
I pulled the soft cashmere blanket tighter around my shoulders and watched him.
He hadn’t let go of my hand once since we’d boarded, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles over my knuckles, as if checking I was still real.
After what felt like hours, he finally turned his head. Those storm-green eyes found mine in the half-light, and for the first time since Munroe’s call, some of the lethal edge softened.
“We’re landing in Bozeman in forty minutes,” he said quietly. “From there, another short flight by helicopter to the ranch.”
“Ranch,” I echoed, the word foreign on my tongue. “In Montana?”
He nodded once. “Six thousand acres in the Paradise Valley. Backed up against the Absaroka Range. It's one road in, one road out. And private airstrip. No one gets close without us knowing days in advance.”
His voice was calm, matter-of-fact, but I heard what lay underneath: fortress. Sanctuary. Cage, if it had to be.
I swallowed. “How long are we staying?”
“As long as it takes.” His fingers tightened around mine. “Could be weeks or months, until I finish this.”
Finish this. He didn’t need to say whose blood would end up on the ground for it to be over. I already knew.
I shifted in my seat, the faint ache between my thighs reminding me how thoroughly he’d claimed me just hours ago, how he’d poured all that fear and fury into my body like he could shield me from the world by sheer force of will.
“And my sisters?” I asked.
“Already on their way, separate flight. They’ll land tomorrow morning. Same property, but guest house on the far east side. Munroe is coordinating with their security detail.”
He’d planned everything perfectly, down to the last detail, the last contingency. And yet, sitting there under his careful watch, guilt coiled tight in my chest.
I was the reason for all of this: the midnight flight, the exile, the war he was preparing to wage from the shadows.
Everything circled back to me.
At the same time, a quieter, more desperate need clawed its way up my throat.
I needed to know if he loved me.
Not just that he wanted or needed me, or just needed to possess me, protect me, brand me as his.
I needed the word. The truth behind the storm in his eyes.
I drew in a breath, steadying myself, and opened my mouth to ask.
A crackle from the overhead speakers stopped me cold.
A voice filtered through, different from Munroe's smooth baritone. This one was rougher, wheezy and edged with strain, as if the speaker had been running or smoking three packs a day for decades.
“Hello, sir. Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got bad news.”
Thayne’s entire body went rigid. His hand tightened around mine until the bones ached, but his face remained a mask.
A cold, controlled, lethal mask.
“Who is this?” he demanded, voice low and deadly quiet.
The wheezy voice gave a thin, humorless laugh. “You don’t recognize me, Thayne? I’m hurt. It’s Sebastian. Your father’s head of security for the last twenty-three years.”
My stomach dropped.
Thayne’s eyes narrowed to slits. “How did you get this frequency?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Sebastian rasped. “What matters is that I’m calling to deliver a message. Your father knows where you’re headed. He’s got his eyes on Bozeman tower, on the helicopter charters, on every private strip within two hundred miles of Paradise Valley.”
Thayne’s jaw flexed, the muscle jumping. “He’s bluffing.”
“Not this time.” A wet cough crackled over the line. “He’s already moving assets. Two teams, ex-special forces, and Thayne, they're off-the-books. One to intercept on the ground after you land. The other… well, let’s just say your helicopter ride might get a little turbulent.”
Ice slid down my spine.
Thayne leaned forward, every line of his body coiled like a predator about to strike.
“If anything happens to that bird, Victor, I’ll find you. And I’ll make what happened to Darius look merciful.”
Victor chuckled again, the sound brittle.
“I’m not your enemy here, Thayne. That’s why I’m warning you. Turn the jet around. Come back and face him like a man. He says if you bring the girl in willingly, he’ll let the rest go. I mean her sisters. Even you, eventually. And don't forget your mother.”
Thayne’s silence was terrifying. I could feel the rage radiating off him in waves, hot and violent.
“Tell my father,” he said at last, each word carved from granite, “that the next time he wants to threaten what’s mine, he should do it himself. Because anyone he sends won’t be coming home.”
He reached forward and killed the connection with a single, deliberate press.
The cabin fell deathly quiet again, broken only by the steady thrum of the engines.
I stared at him, my heart hammering against my chest. “He’s really coming for us.”
Thayne turned back to me slowly. The lethal edge was still there, but when his gaze met mine, something fiercer burned beneath it, an absolute, unyielding resolve.
“He can try,” he said softly.
Then he brought my hand to his lips, pressing a hard kiss to my knuckles.
“We’re not turning around, little lamb. We’re landing in twenty minutes. And when we do, I’ll handle the rest.”
His thumb brushed over my stomach again, gentle despite the storm raging in his eyes.
“No one touches you. I repeat, no one touches our family. Not while I’m breathing.”
I swallowed the question I’d almost asked, about love, and let it settle into something deeper, something I could feel in every fierce line of his body.
Maybe I didn’t need the word yet. Not when his actions screamed it louder than anything he could ever say.
The jet began its descent, the cabin lights brightening slightly as the captain’s voice announced final approach.
Outside the windows, the endless black gave way to scattered pinpricks of light, Bozeman sprawling below us, the jagged silhouettes of the mountains rising like silent guardians.
Thayne released my hand only long enough to buckle me in tighter, his fingers lingering on the strap across my chest.
“Stay close to me when we land,” he murmured. “No matter what.”
I nodded, my throat tight.
The wheels touched down with a smooth screech, the jet decelerating rapidly on the private runway.
Through the window, I caught glimpses of the terminal. It was quiet and isolated, the kind of place built for discretion.
But as we taxied toward the hangar, floodlights suddenly snapped on, harsh and blinding.
Three black SUVs were parked in a deliberate arc across the tarmac, blocking our path.