Chapter 160
Evelyn's POV
The storm hit the Hamptons estate exactly as predicted. Rain lashed the windows in thick sheets. Thunder cracked overhead hard enough to make the house shudder. I stood by the bedroom window watching lightning illuminate the churning ocean. My reflection looked ghostlike in the rain-streaked glass.
Tomorrow was supposed to be our wedding day.
Julian's arms slid around my waist from behind. His warmth contrasted sharply with the chill radiating off the window. I felt his chin rest on my shoulder as he followed my gaze out into the tempest.
"Think it'll clear up by tomorrow?" he asked. His voice carried a lightness that didn't quite mask the underlying tension. "I'd hate for our wedding photos to be all gray skies and mud."
"The forecast says it should pass by morning," I said. But my voice sounded hollow even to my own ears.
Julian's arms tightened around me slightly. "What's wrong?"
I wanted to tell him about the knot of dread that had been tightening in my stomach all day. About the way my instincts—honed by five years of survival training—were screaming that something was coming. That we were running out of time.
But I couldn't find the words. Couldn't explain a feeling that had no rational basis.
"Nothing," I lied. "Just pre-wedding jitters."
Julian turned me to face him. Those ice-gray eyes studied me with the kind of attention that made it impossible to hide.
"You're a terrible liar when it comes to me," he said softly. "What's really wrong?"
Before I could answer, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. Julian's expression shifted instantly from concerned lover to tactical commander. He released me to check the screen. I watched his jaw tighten as he read the message.
"Weber just confirmed movement on the perimeter," he said. His voice dropped into that clipped, tactical register. "Multiple heat signatures approaching from three different vectors. At least six hostiles. Maybe more. They're using the storm as cover. Moving with coordinated precision."
The dread in my stomach crystallized into cold certainty.
My instincts had been right.
"Six?" I repeated. The number sent ice through my veins. "Kholod never sends teams. They don't work in groups. Every operative is too valuable. Too expensive to train."
"I know." Julian was already moving toward the closet. "Which means they're not planning to take prisoners. This is an execution squad."
He pulled open the hidden weapons cache. Started pulling out tactical gear with practiced efficiency.
"They're betting that sheer numbers will overwhelm us. That even if we're good, we can't fight off six Kholod-trained operatives."
I checked the Glock 19 holstered at the small of my back. The weight of it had become familiar over the past weeks. Julian had insisted I stay armed at all times during lockdown.
Now I was grateful for his paranoia.
"They might be right," I said quietly.
Julian looked up from strapping on his tactical vest. His expression was grim but determined.
"Then we make them pay for every inch," he said. "Standard defensive protocol. We hold this room. Make them come to us through a fatal funnel. Weber's team will thin their numbers at the perimeter. Anyone who gets through has to come up those stairs. Single file. Into our crossfire."
He pulled out a second vest. Held it out to me.
"Put this on. And take this."
He handed me a Sig Sauer P226. My backup weapon. I checked the magazine. Fifteen rounds. Plus the seventeen in my Glock. Thirty-two shots total.
Against six Kholod operatives.
The math wasn't good.
Julian met my eyes across the room. For just a moment, his tactical mask slipped. I saw the fear underneath. Not for himself. For me.
"We're going to get through this," he said. The words sounded like a promise. Like a prayer. "Tomorrow, we're getting married. Our wedding is still happening. I don't care if I have to limp down that aisle. Understand?"
I wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe we could have a future beyond this.
But that knot of dread in my stomach only tightened.
Before I could respond, the lights cut out. The entire estate plunged into darkness broken only by intermittent flashes of lightning through the windows.
My training kicked in automatically. I dropped into a defensive stance. My weapon came up. Eyes scanning the darkness for threats.
"Backup generators in thirty seconds," Julian's voice came from beside me. Steady and calm. I felt his hand find my shoulder in the darkness. Grounding me. "They're trying to create chaos. Don't let them."
The backup generators kicked in. Red emergency lighting bathed the hallway beyond our door. Everything turned into a hellscape of shadows and blood-colored illumination.
Through the door, I heard the sounds of combat erupt. Shouts. Gunfire. The distinctive crack of flashbangs. The heavy thud of bodies.
Julian's security team was engaging. But the sounds were moving closer. Faster than they should have been.
"They're through the first perimeter already," Julian said. His voice was tight. "These aren't regular operatives. They're moving like Spetsnaz Alpha Group."
"They are," I said. My mouth was dry. "Kholod recruits from Alpha Group. FSB. GRU. The best Russia has."
The sounds of combat were on the stairs now. I heard Weber's voice over Julian's earpiece. Clipped. Professional. But I could hear the strain.
"Four hostiles confirmed on the second floor. Two more still unaccounted for. We've got three operators down. I'm wounded. Falling back to—"
The transmission cut off in a burst of static and gunfire.
Julian's jaw clenched. But his voice remained steady.
"Positions. Now."