Chapter 156
Evelyn's POV
"He tried to." Julian's jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle jumping. "He had a gun on you when I came through that door. If I'd been thirty seconds later—"
His eyes darkened with something that looked like genuine fear. "Kholod's operatives are better than I estimated. He bypassed three layers of security without triggering a single alarm except the balcony door. That shouldn't be possible."
I tried for levity, anything to ease the tension coiled in his shoulders. "Well, now you know why you should be afraid of me. I was trained by the same people."
Julian didn't smile. "I'm not joking, Evelyn. If I hadn't been already on my way back—"
"But you were." I squeezed his hands, trying to ground him the same way he'd grounded me so many times before. "You got here in time. I'm safe."
"This time." His eyes bored into mine with an intensity that was almost painful to meet. "This time I got here in time. But what about next time? What about when I'm in a meeting I actually can't leave? What about when you're somewhere I can't reach you fast enough?"
"Then I handle it," I said simply. "The way I was trained to. The way I've been handling threats since I was eighteen years old."
"You shouldn't have to." The words came out raw, stripped of his usual control. "You shouldn't have to live like this, constantly looking over your shoulder, constantly ready to fight for your life in your own fucking apartment."
"Boss." Weber's voice cut through the tension, professional and calm. "What do you want us to do with him?"
Julian's attention snapped back to the operative, and the expression on his face shifted into something cold and calculating and absolutely merciless. "Take him to the secondary location. I want to have a conversation with him before we decide what happens next."
"Julian—" I started, but he shook his head sharply.
"Not now, Evelyn. Right now, I need you to go into the bedroom, pack a bag, and prepare to leave. We're not staying here tonight."
"Where are we going?"
"The Hamptons house. It's more secure, more isolated, easier to defend." He turned back to Weber. "Get him out of here. I'll meet you at secondary in two hours."
Weber nodded and gestured to the other operatives. They hauled the Kholod operative to his feet with efficient professionalism, and I watched them manhandle him toward the door with a strange sense of detachment. This was my life now. Assassination attempts in my kitchen. Armed standoffs in my living room. The man I loved orchestrating the detention and interrogation of people who'd been sent to kill me.
When they were gone, Julian finally holstered his weapon and pulled me into his arms with enough force to drive what little air I had left from my lungs. "This ends now," he said against my hair, his voice rough with emotion. "No more waiting for them to make the first move. No more hoping they'll see reason. This ends now."
I pulled back enough to look up at him. "What are you going to do?"
"Whatever it takes." His expression was set, determined, the tactical operator fully back in control now. "I'm going to make Kholod understand that pursuing you isn't worth the cost. That every operative they send ends up detained or dead. That continuing this vendetta will cost them more than they can afford to lose."
"You're going to start a war."
"I'm going to end one," Julian corrected, his voice hard as steel. "The war they started when they sent that first operative. The war they continued by sending a second. I'm going to end it in a way that makes absolutely clear that you are off-limits. That touching you means going through me, and going through Titan, and that the price of that conflict is higher than any benefit they might gain."
He was right. I knew he was right. Kholod only understood strength, only respected power backed by the willingness to use overwhelming force. Trying to reason with them, trying to buy my freedom through negotiation—those were tactics that might work with a normal organization. But Kholod wasn't normal. They were survivors of the Soviet intelligence apparatus, trained in a system that valued ruthlessness and absolute loyalty above all else.
"Okay," I said. "What do you need from me?"
"I need you to trust me." Julian's hands came up to frame my face with devastating gentleness that was completely at odds with the violence we'd just experienced. "I need you to let me handle this without trying to take it on yourself. Can you do that?"
It went against every instinct I had. Against five years of Vorkuta training that had taught me to rely on no one, to trust nothing but my own skills and constant vigilance. But looking at Julian—at the absolute conviction in his eyes, at the fierce protectiveness in every line of his body—I realized that trusting him wasn't weakness. It was strength. The strength to let someone else carry part of the burden, to accept that I didn't have to face every threat alone anymore.
"Yes," I whispered. "Yes, I can do that."
The kiss he gave me was brief but intense, weighted with promises and determination and something that felt like desperate relief. When he pulled back, his expression had shifted back into the cold tactical calculation I recognized from his work at Titan.
"Pack a bag," he repeated. "Include the wedding dress and anything else you'll need for the next few days. We're not coming back here until this is resolved."
"What about Ghost?" I asked, glancing toward where the cat was still hiding under the couch, her green eyes huge with alarm at all the commotion.
"Bring her too." Julian's mouth curved slightly, the first hint of softness since he'd burst through the door. "She's family. Family doesn't get left behind."