Chapter 184

Chapter 184
Evelyn's POV

The shift happened the moment we crossed the threshold, my spine straightening on instinct and my face settling into the mask I'd worn a thousand times in a thousand different contexts—assassin at a target's party, informant at a dead drop, survivor at a funeral.

Old habits.

Julian's hand tightened on my waist. "You okay?"

"Yeah." I caught myself and forced honesty. "Adjusting. Lots of people."

"Most of them drunk on champagne and more interested in the food than us." He steered me to a quiet corner where I could see the room without being swallowed by it. "We can take breaks, disappear upstairs, tell people we're having important newlywed discussions."

Despite my tension, I smiled. "Is that what we'd call it?"

"Among other things." The heat in his voice cut through my operational awareness. "But seriously—you say the word and we're gone. Webb handles the crowd, your father terrifies the persistent ones, Thomas tells war stories until everyone falls asleep."

I laughed, genuine enough that people glanced over. "I'm okay," I said, realizing I meant it. "I've survived worse than a wedding reception."

"Terrible bar to set," Julian pointed out, but he was smiling and I felt some tension ease because he understood what kind of worse I'd survived and loved me anyway.

Webb appeared at Julian's elbow, moving carefully and still favoring his shoulder—the sling was gone but I could see the stiffness.

"Julian," he said. "Thomas is asking for you both. Something about the wine?"

Julian and I exchanged a glance, then followed Webb through the crowd to where Thomas and Nikolai were standing near one of the side tables. Thomas was holding two bottles of wine, examining the labels with the focused attention of a man who knew his vintages.

Nikolai saw us first and something flickered across his face—nervousness, maybe, or pride, hard to tell with him.

"There you are," Thomas said, turning to us with a grin. "Your father here has been holding out on us, Evelyn. Do you know what these are?"

He held up the bottles and my breath caught—Georgian Saperavi Reserve, the labels showing the year I was born.

"I—" My voice came out rough and I cleared my throat. "Where did you find those?"

Nikolai stepped forward with his hands clasped behind his back in that military way of his. "I wanted to give you something that mattered," he said quietly, his Russian accent thicker than usual. "Something that connected to your beginning but also to your future."

He paused and swallowed. "I saw these at an auction two days ago. The year caught my eye immediately—your birth year. I didn't have time to find anything else, anything better. So I bought them on the spot, paid more than I should have, but—" He stopped, looking almost embarrassed. "I know it's not much, not enough, but I wanted you to have something from me today."

Thomas whistled low. "I'll say—these are practically extinct. I've only seen this vintage at auction once, started at five figures."

I was still staring at the bottles, at my father, thinking about how he'd gone to that much trouble for me, how while he'd been dismantling his empire and severing connections and making sure I'd be safe, he'd also been doing this.

Nikolai reached out and carefully turned one bottle so I could see the back label where there was writing in Russian, his handwriting: "To my daughter: May your future be like this wine—harsh at first taste, but with a sweetness that lingers and deepens with time. With all my love, your father."

My throat closed up completely and I felt Julian's arm come around my waist, steadying me before I even realized I was swaying.

"That's beautiful," Thomas said quietly, having the grace to look away and give us a moment. "Though I have to say, Nikolai, you've been holding out—you could have mentioned you had these when we were talking yesterday."

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Nikolai said, still looking at me. "For both of you."

I couldn't speak, couldn't find words, could only think about how he'd spent two days searching while everything else was falling apart, how he'd paid whatever it took to give me this.

"We should open one," I managed finally, my voice shaky. "Share it with everyone. It's a celebration."

I reached for the bottle but Julian caught my hand. "Absolutely not," he said firmly, taking both bottles from Thomas and tucking them under his arm like he was securing classified documents. "This is way too good to waste on this crowd."

"Hey," Thomas protested. "I'm right here."

"Exactly my point—you'd probably mix it with Coke or something equally criminal."

"I would not—"

"You put ice in a thirty-year Macallan last month."

"That was one time!"

Watching them bicker, I felt something loosen in my chest and laughter bubbled up, unexpected and genuine.

Nikolai was watching me and when I met his eyes, I saw the question there—is this okay, did I do right?

I stepped forward and closed the distance between us, then before I could second-guess it, I hugged him.

It was brief and awkward, his body going rigid with surprise before his arms came up tentatively to return it.

"Thank you," I whispered against his shoulder. "It's perfect."

When I pulled back, his eyes were bright with unshed tears. "You're welcome," he said hoarsely. "My daughter."

The phrase still felt strange and foreign, but also right.

Thomas cleared his throat loudly. "Well, now that we've all had our moment, I'm going to need that whiskey Webb promised me since apparently I'm not refined enough for the good wine."

"You really aren't," Julian agreed cheerfully.

"Brat."

They moved off still bickering, and Nikolai started to follow, then paused. "The organization," he said quietly, just for me. "The dismantling is going well, faster than I expected. Most people saw which way the wind was blowing and made their own arrangements, though a few had to be persuaded more firmly."

His expression darkened briefly. "But it's happening. You're free, Evelyn. Truly free. No one will come for you, no one will try to reactivate you—I'm making sure of it."

I nodded and felt the weight of that settling into my bones. Free. I was free.

"Thank you," I said again. "For ending it. For choosing to stop."

"It should have ended years ago," he said. "Before I ever brought you into it. But better late than never, yes?"

"Yes," I agreed softly. "Better late than never."

He nodded once, then followed Thomas and Julian toward the bar, leaving me standing there with the knowledge settling deeper—the organization was ending, my father was trying, I was married to a man who loved me.

I was free.

The thought was so big, so overwhelming, that I had to take a moment just to breathe.

"You okay?"

Julian was back, must have noticed me standing alone.

"Yeah," I said, and meant it. "Just processing."

"Big day for processing," he agreed, handing me a glass of champagne. "Come on, we need to do the rounds—say hello to people who flew across the country to watch us make terrible decisions."

"Our marriage is not a terrible decision."

"I meant the karaoke machine Thomas is threatening to break out."

I laughed and let him lead me into the crowd.