Page 67 of His Kidnapped Irish Mafia Virgin

They were ready because Sean had made it clear that Nora wasn’t alone. And neither was I. Sean studied me for a moment before speaking again.

“We do this properly,” he said.

This belonged to the O’Connor family, and failure was no longer an option.

The briefing room was already crowded with men checking final reports when the door opened quietly behind us. I looked up, expecting another operative, but Sean’s expression shifted the moment he saw who’d entered.

Ronan O’Connor stepped into the room without hurry, his dark coat still damp from the rain outside. He carried no visible weapon, no stack of files, and no sign of the urgency that filled the rest of the house, but the room changed the moment he arrived. Ronan nodded once to Sean, then let his gaze settle on the evidence spread across the table.

“You found Hale,” he said. His voice was calm, almost detached, but there was nothing careless about the way he spoke.

“We found where he’s hiding,” I replied. “The warehouse near the docks is being used by the trafficking syndicate, and Victor Hale is under their protection.”

Ronan stepped closer and studied the map without touching it. His eyes moved slowly across the marked routes, taking in every detail with an intense level of concentration.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

I felt my impatience rise. “We don’t have much time,” I said. “If they realize we’ve traced them, they’ll move him again.”

Ronan finally looked at me. “That’s exactly why you shouldn’t rush the first assault route you see.” The words weren’t a challenge, but they landed like one.

I held his gaze. “What do you mean?”

He pointed to the eastern side of the warehouse on the map.

“This loading dock is too obvious,” he said. “If Hale has been hiding there for more than a few hours, the syndicate will expect an attack from this direction. They’ll place their strongest men here, and they’ll keep vehicles ready behind the building for a quick escape.”

Sean folded his arms. “Go on.”

Ronan traced a narrow line along the back of the map. “There’s an abandoned drainage path behind the warehouse,” he said. “It connects to the old service road near the docks. If I were protecting someone valuable, I would keep that route hidden and use it only if the main entrance was compromised.”

Diggs leaned closer to the table. “We didn’t mark that path in the first sweep.”

“I know,” Ronan replied. “It’s covered by collapsed fencing and debris. From the street, it looks unusable.”

Paddy frowned. “You think Hale will run through there?”

“I think the syndicate will make him run through there,” Ronan said. “They know the O’Connors prefer direct confrontation, so they’ll use that expectation against us.”

The room fell silent as his words settled over the plan we’d spent the last hour building. Ronan continued studying the map, his expression unreadable.

“They’ll also have hidden security positions here, here, and here,” he said, marking three points around the warehouse perimeter. “These are blind spots from the main road, but they give their men a clear view of anyone approaching the building.”

I looked at the marked locations and felt a cold realization settle in my chest. Ronan had identified weaknesses in our plan within minutes of entering the room, weaknesses that could have cost us men if we’d attacked without reconsidering our approach.

Sean glanced at me briefly, then back at Ronan. “What would you do?”

Ronan met my eyes before answering. “I’d make them believe we’re attacking from the front,” he said calmly. “Then I’d close the drainage path before Hale realizes he needs it.”

I studied him for a long moment, recognizing the sharp intelligence behind his quiet demeanor. Ronan was nothing like me. Where my instincts pushed me toward action, his mind moved toward calculation. Where my anger burned openly, his control concealed whatever he was thinking.

But as I looked at the revised plan taking shape on the table, I understood why Sean had called him here. Ronan O’Connor was the kind of man who turned a dangerous operation into a winning one. I was glad he was part of our family.

The convoy left the house just before dawn, moving through the dark streets in a line of black vehicles that carried the full force of the O’Connor syndicate toward the docks.

Rain fell lightly against the windows, blurring the city lights into streaks of gold and white. Engines hummed with a steady promise of violence waiting ahead.

I sat in the front vehicle with my weapon resting across my lap, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. Diggs drove while Michael checked the final communication channels beside him.