Chapter 188
Raven
The beach at sunset was almost painfully beautiful.
Golden light painted the waves. Seabirds wheeled overhead. The air tasted like salt and freedom.
We found a spot near the waterline. Ethan got a fire going—apparently Boy Scouts had taught him something useful. Soon we had flames crackling, food warming, and three opened beers reflecting firelight.
"Okay," Katya said after a long silence. "New rule. We don't talk about the folder. We don't think about the folder. The folder doesn't exist."
"Agreed," Ethan said quickly. Too quickly.
"So instead," Katya continued, her voice deliberately light, "let's talk about literally anything else. Like..." She turned to Ethan. "What happens after this? For you, I mean. What's next?"
Ethan poked at the fire with a stick. "I want to stay in intelligence work. CIA, NSA, maybe DIA if they'll have me. I'm better with analysis than field work—Han proved that pretty conclusively—but..." He smiled slightly. "I like puzzles. And the intelligence world is basically one giant puzzle that keeps getting bigger."
"That sounds exhausting," Katya observed.
"It sounds perfect," Ethan corrected. "What about you?"
She sighed, staring at her beer. "I go back to Moscow. My father has a position waiting—GRU, probably. Maybe SVR if I prove myself." She paused. "The problem is Marcus."
"Your boyfriend?" I asked.
"Yeah." Her voice softened. "He's here. In America. Teaching kindergarten in Portland. And I don't know if..." She trailed off.
"If he'll follow you to Russia," Ethan finished.
"Would you?" Katya asked him. "Would you uproot your entire life for someone?"
Ethan was quiet for a long moment. "Honestly? Probably not. Most people wouldn't. It's human nature—we prioritize our own stability, our own goals. Changing everything for another person..." He shook his head. "That's rare. Really rare."
"So basically," Katya said bitterly, "I'm screwed."
"Not necessarily," Ethan countered. "I'm just saying that if someone does make that choice—if they throw away their career, their home, their entire established life for you—" He met her eyes. "Then you know they're serious. Because at that point, they're essentially saying you matter more than literally everything else."
Something in my chest clenched.
Nash.
The realization hit me like cold water.
Nash had changed everything for me. His routine. His organization. His entire operational focus had shifted from leading his operations worldwide to... what? Hovering around my high school like some overprotective shadow? Fixing my family's problems? Helping me with whatever I needed, no questions asked, no conditions attached?
He'd moved into my house. Dealt with my parents' financial issues. Smooth-talked his way past every authority figure in my life.
He'd kissed me in an empty casino and called me by my real name—Phantom—like it was something precious instead of terrifying.
He's rebuilt his entire world around mine.
And I'd been too stupid—too defensive—to recognize what that meant.
"Raven?"
I blinked. Katya was watching me with knowing eyes.
"You thought of someone just now," she said. It wasn't a question.
"No—"
"You absolutely did." She grinned. "Your whole face changed. Who is he?"
"There's no—" I stopped. "It's complicated."
"It's always complicated," Ethan said sagely, as if he had any experience with relationships. "But do you have someone? Like what I described? Someone who changed everything for you?"
I took a long drink, buying time.
Nash, who touched me despite his pathological mysophobia. Nash, who'd hunted The Surgeon across continents because he knew it was my vendetta. Nash, who looked at me like I was the center of his universe and he was perfectly content to orbit.
"Maybe," I said finally.
Katya's eyes lit up. "Is it a boyfriend?"
"No." The word came out too fast. "Not a boyfriend. Not... officially. He's—" Dangerous. Powerful. Obsessed. "—around. Sometimes."
"But you like him," Katya pressed.
"I tolerate him."
"Raven." Her voice went gentle. "Does he make you happy?"
The question stopped me cold.
Did Nash make me happy?
I thought about the way he'd stayed in the hospital for five days, pestering doctors for extra tests. How he'd fabricated excuses to my school. The quiet moments in the kitchen when he'd make tea without being asked.
The way he'd looked at me in that casino, like I was the only person in the entire world worth his attention.
"Yeah," I admitted quietly. "He does."
"Then he's not 'not a boyfriend,'" Katya said matter-of-factly. "He's something better. He's—"
"—probably going to give me a heart attack with his stalker tendencies," I finished. But I was smiling.
Damn it.
"You're in love with him," Ethan announced, like he'd just solved a particularly complex equation.
"I'm not—"
"You are," both of them said in unison.
I opened my mouth to argue.
The world tilted.
Not violently. Just... softly. Like someone had pulled the ground out from under me by inches instead of feet.
What—
"Raven?" Ethan's voice sounded distant. Wrong. "You look pale."
I tried to stand. My legs didn't cooperate.
The beer, my mind supplied with cold clarity. Or the food. Drugged. We've been—
"I don't feel good," Katya slurred. The bottle slipped from her fingers.
Final test, I realized as my vision blurred. They drugged us. This is—
Ethan collapsed first, glasses askew.
Katya went down second, eyes rolling back.
I fought it. Fought hard. My training screaming at me to stay conscious, stay alert—
But my body had other ideas.
The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was the tent in the distance.
And a silhouette standing in the entrance, watching.
Then nothing.