Chapter 7
Evelyn's POV
Catherine struggled against his grip, her face contorted with grief and rage. "Let go of me! She doesn't belong here! She never belonged here!"
"That's enough!" Adrian's voice cracked like a whip. He pulled Catherine back, putting himself fully between us. "Go inside. Cool off. We'll talk about this later."
"I hate you," Catherine sobbed, but I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or to Adrian or to the universe that had taken her father. "I hate both of you."
She wrenched free from Adrian's grip and ran past us into the house, her footsteps echoing through the entrance hall before a door slammed somewhere deep inside.
The silence that followed was deafening.
I stood there on the front steps, my heart pounding, my hands shaking with the effort of not reacting the way I'd been trained to react. Every instinct in my body was screaming danger, threat, neutralize. But I'd held myself back. Had let Catherine's rage wash over me without responding.
It felt like a victory and a defeat all at once.
"I'm sorry." Adrian's voice was rough. He turned to face me, and I saw genuine anguish in his eyes. "I should have—I knew she was upset, but I didn't think she'd—"
"It's fine." The words came out clipped. Professional. The tone I used after a mission when I needed to file a report without betraying any emotion. "She has every right to be angry."
"She almost hit you."
"But she didn't." I forced myself to unclench my fists, to breathe normally. "And I don't blame her. From her perspective, I'm exactly what she thinks I am."
Adrian looked like he wanted to argue, but I couldn't handle it. Couldn't stand here and have this conversation when every nerve in my body was still singing with adrenaline, when I was still fighting the urge to scan the street for additional threats, to secure my perimeter, to—
I needed to get inside. Needed to be alone. Needed to decompress before I did something that would reveal exactly how much I'd changed in Russia.
"I should go to my room," I said quickly, already moving toward the door. "Wash up. Rest before the wake. I'm—the flight was long. I'm exhausted."
It wasn't entirely a lie. But exhaustion wasn't what was making my hands shake.
"Evelyn—" Adrian reached for my arm, but I stepped out of range before he could touch me. His hand fell back to his side, and something flickered across his face. Hurt, maybe. Or concern.
"I just need some time," I said, softer now. "To adjust. To—to process everything. I'll be fine by four o'clock. I promise."
I could see him wanting to push, to insist on talking this through, to offer comfort or protection or whatever he thought I needed. But something in my expression must have warned him off, because he just nodded.
"Your room is ready. James had your luggage sent up." He paused, then added quietly, "If you need anything—"
"I know where to find you." I managed something that might have passed for a smile. "Thank you. For—for trying to protect me. But I can handle Catherine."
The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. Because the truth was, I could handle Catherine far too well. Could have had her on the ground and unconscious in three moves. Could have broken her wrist before her hand ever reached my face.
And that was exactly the problem.
I turned and walked through the front door before Adrian could say anything else. James was hovering in the entrance hall, his expression carefully neutral, but I saw the way his eyes tracked me. Assessing. Judging.
"Mrs. Winthrop," he said with that perfectly professional tone that somehow managed to convey disapproval. "Your room is prepared. Shall I have tea sent up?"
"No, thank you, James." I kept my voice steady. "I just need to rest."
I didn't wait for his response. Just headed for the grand staircase, my footsteps echoing on the marble floor. Each step took me further from the confrontation outside, further from Adrian's concerned gaze, further from the mess I'd walked back into.
Behind me, I heard the front door close. Heard Adrian's low voice speaking to James. But I didn't look back.
I climbed the stairs like I was ascending to a safe house after a mission gone wrong. Mechanically. Efficiently. Keeping my breathing steady and my expression neutral even though there was no one to see.
The hallway to my old suite stretched before me, exactly as I remembered it. Same paintings on the walls. Same antique runner on the floor. Same sconce lights casting warm pools of illumination.
Nothing had changed.
Everything had changed.
I reached my door and paused with my hand on the knob. Behind this door was the room where I'd spent three years trying to be Arthur's wife. Where I'd lain awake at night thinking about Adrian in his room down the hall. Where I'd packed my bags five years ago, believing I was leaving forever.
I took a breath, then another, forcing my heart rate to slow. Forcing my hands to stop shaking.
Then I opened the door and stepped inside, closing it firmly behind me.
The lock clicked into place with a sound that felt like safety.
I stood there with my back against the door, eyes closed, and finally let myself feel the full weight of what had just happened. Catherine's rage. Adrian's protection. The barely controlled violence of my own response.
I'd almost hurt her. Almost let my training take over. Almost revealed exactly what five years in Vorkuta had turned me into.
My legs gave out. I slid down the door until I was sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest, breathing hard.
This was going to be harder than I'd thought. Harder than any mission Nikolai had ever given me. Because at least on a mission, I knew the rules. Knew who the enemy was. Knew what success looked like.
Here, I had no idea what I was doing.
I sat there on the floor of my old room, in my black widow's dress, and tried to remember how to be Evelyn Valentine instead of Wraith.
Tried to remember how to be human.
The wake was in three hours. I needed to pull myself together. Needed to wash off the travel grime and the adrenaline sweat. Needed to put on whatever mask would get me through the next few days.
But for now, for just a few minutes, I let myself sit on the floor and shake.
Let myself be weak in the only place where no one could see.