Page 24 of Lost Hope

“I’ve got him,” a new voice cut in.

Ronan turned to find a stunning woman in tactical gear approaching the helicopter. Her bearing screamed special operations, but her smile was genuine.

“Angie Michaelson,” she said.

Her handshake was firm, professional. No hint of curiosity about meeting her teammate’s long-lost brother. These people had discipline.

Maya stiffened beside him. “The CIA’s already involved?”

Angie shook her head. “I am with the Company, but I consult with Knight Tactical on the side. I’m not here in an official capacity. Just more brainpower if you need me.”

Ronan shot Maya a look. How would she know Angela Michaelson was CIA?

“I read their files. What I could find, anyway.” She shrugged. “Guess you didn’t.”

Wrong. He read everything he could find on Christian Murphy. And Knight Tactical. He just wasn’t going to admit it.

“This way.” Angie gestured toward the main building. “Team’s gathering in the conference room. Christian’s finishing up a call with the DOD.”

Of course he was. According to every file Ronan had quietly acquired over the years, Christian Murphy and his friends hadmore connections in the Pentagon than most generals. The medals alone ...

The massive hangar door stood open, releasing a wave of familiar scents—aviation fuel, gun oil, fresh coffee. It hit something deep in Ronan’s muscle memory, a visceral reminder of everything he’d lost. The space could have housed a small airline. Instead, it held a collection of aircraft that made Ronan’s chest tight with envy. A sleek Pilatus PC-24 dominated the center, its pristine paint job probably worth more than everything Ronan owned. He couldn’t even afford a single prop for that beauty. Or one tire.

The far corner had been transformed into what looked like a professional training facility—weight stations, climbing walls, and equipment Ronan recognized from his Special Forces days. Plus some he didn’t.

“No way,” Axel breathed, staring at the workout area. “Is that a hypoxic chamber? And look at that obstacle course setup ...” He trailed off, practically drooling.

“Quite an operation,” Maya said quietly beside Ronan. He caught the unspoken question in her tone.

“Knight Tactical specializes in high-risk private security and extraction,” Austin explained as they walked. “Best in the business.”

The pride in his voice was genuine. Ronan cataloged details as they moved through the facility—cutting-edge equipment, veteran operators moving with purpose, everything running like clockwork. The kind of setup he’d once dreamed of building. Back when he still wore a uniform.

They passed through the hangar area and up the metal stairs to the third floor. Angie squared her shoulders slightly—a tell that gave away more than she probably intended.

“Ready?” she asked.

No. But Ronan nodded anyway.

The command center could have been lifted straight from any top-tier military installation. Gleaming screens covered one wall, and cutting-edge tactical displays another. But someone had put thought into making it feel less sterile—comfortable leather chairs, custom wood desks, even some tasteful art on the walls. Everything spoke of unlimited resources applied with tactical precision.

And at the center ...

Christian Murphy turned from a communication console. The air whooshed out of Ronan’s lungs. The room’s carefully controlled temperature suddenly felt too cold against his skin, raising gooseflesh along his arms. Even the recycled air seemed to carry his brother’s expensive cologne—something subtle and refined that made Ronan intensely aware of his own sweat-dried clothes and the lingering gunpowder residue clinging to his skin. It was like looking in a mirror with the settings slightly altered. Same build, same features, but refined where Ronan was rough. There was government money in top-of-the line tech wear. Pentagon polish in that posture.

Their eyes met. Ronan caught the microscopic flinch before Christian’s expression went professionally neutral.

“You all look like hell.” Christian gestured toward a bright hallway. “Rooms are ready. Get cleaned up, grab some food. Team meeting in sixty.”

The dismissal was clear, but Austin jumped in. “I hope you guys are okay with DreamBurger for lunch. My wife’s?—”

Axel groaned with pleasure. “Company. We know. And the flagship restaurant’s right here in the terminal. I am totally down with that. Any chance I can get my fries extra crispy?”

A grin transformed Austin’s craggy face. “I do have some pull. I’ll see what I can do.”

Ronan looked away. This might be his buddy’s dreamland, but it was fast becoming his nightmare. Exactly as he expected.

“We’ve got the best coffee this side of Baghdad,” Jack added.

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