Chapter 259

Chapter 259
Raven
 
I glanced at Nash. He hadn't moved. Hadn't flinched. Just watched me with those impossibly steady eyes, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth like he knew exactly how this would end.
 
"My legion has always needed a queen," he said quietly. His voice carried across the silent room. "Everything I have is already yours, Raven. I just want the privilege of standing beside you while you terrify world leaders and destabilize criminal empires. Preferably with legal paperwork that makes the IRS less irritated."
 
Someone in the back of the room—I think it was Patterson—actually said "Aww."
 
A four-star general.
 
Said "aww."
 
I was never letting him live that down.
 
I turned to Ahab, who was trying very hard not to laugh. "Godfather," I said seriously. "Do you approve of this man?"
 
Ahab lost his composure completely. He doubled over, shoulders shaking, one hand pressed to his chest like he was trying to contain his heart. "Raven," he managed between gasps of laughter, "I can't think of anyone better. You have my blessing. God help him."
 
The room erupted in scattered chuckles. Even Morrison cracked a smile, though he still looked vaguely traumatized.
 
I looked back at Nash. He was still there. Still waiting. Still holding that obscene ring with the patience of a man who had all the time in the world.
 
My heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my teeth.
 
Just say yes. Stop torturing him and say yes.
 
But where was the fun in that?
 
"I think," I said slowly, "you're probably... maybe... possibly reliable." I paused. "But I need one more guarantee."
 
"Name it."
 
"Promise me life will never be boring. That I can still disarm nuclear weapons on weekends. That we can hunt down terrorists on our honeymoon. That you'll let me drive the tank during military operations." I stepped closer, close enough to see the flecks of silver in his blue eyes. "Promise me that marrying you won't mean giving up who I am."
 
Nash stood in one fluid motion, the ring still held between us. He cupped my face with his free hand, thumb brushing across my cheekbone with a gentleness that made my breath catch.
 
"Raven Martinez," he said softly, "I fell in love with a woman who breaks into government facilities for fun and saves the world before breakfast. Why the hell would I want to change that?" His smile turned wicked. "Besides, someone needs to keep you from starting World War III every time you get bored."
 
"That was one time."
 
"It was three times."
 
"Details."
 
He laughed—a real laugh, warm and genuine and so full of affection it made something crack open in my chest. "So? Will you marry me? Let me be your legal accomplice in international incidents?"
 
I pretended to consider for another moment. Let him sweat just a little longer.
 
Then I held out my left hand.
 
"I suppose I could upgrade 'possibly' to 'very probably.'"
 
Nash's grin could have powered a small city. He slid the ring onto my finger with a reverence that seemed completely at odds with his usual cocky demeanor. The weight of it was staggering—like wearing a small planet on my hand.
 
The room erupted in applause. Actual applause. From people who regularly ordered drone strikes.
 
Nash pulled me close and kissed me, soft and sweet and entirely inappropriate for a classified military briefing room. I didn't care. I kissed him back, tasting his relief and joy and that edge of possessiveness that always made my pulse race.
 
When we finally broke apart, I was vaguely aware of people congratulating us. Morrison was rambling something about wedding venues and security clearances. Ahab was openly crying, the big sentimental bastard.
 
I patted the pocket containing my Medal of Valor—shoved in there like loose change—and turned to address the room.
 
"Thanks for the hospitality, Mr. Secretary. But we're going to skip the celebratory dinner. Turns out getting engaged is exhausting, and I have some very important phone calls to make. You know, to rub this in my enemies' faces."
 
Morrison looked like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. "Of... of course. Congratulations. Both of you. Please don't blow anything up on your way out."
 
"No promises."
 
Nash laced his fingers through mine—the hand with the ring that probably cost more than the GDP of several small nations—and we headed for the door.
 
Behind us, I heard Ahab's voice, warm with affection and amusement: "Told you she'd be trouble, Morrison. Best decision I ever made, bringing her in."
 
As we stepped into the corridor, Nash leaned down to murmur in my ear. "You know you didn't actually say yes, right?"
 
"Didn't I?"
 
"You said 'very probably.'"
 
I stopped walking, turning to face him fully. The corridor was empty except for us, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows that somehow made his eyes even more intense.
 
I squeezed his hand, feeling the unfamiliar weight of the ring, the solid warmth of him beside me. My heart was doing that stupid fluttering thing again—the thing I'd sworn I'd never let happen, the thing that made me feel dangerously, wonderfully human.
 
"Nash Wilder," I said softly, reaching up to touch his face. "You just convinced the Pentagon to do my homework, gave me joint control of a private military empire, and somehow made me believe I deserve all of it."
 
I stood on my toes, bringing my lips close to his ear.
 
"I love you," I whispered. "That's my yes. That's my always."
 
For a moment—just a heartbeat—Nash went completely still. Then his arms came around me, crushing me against his chest, his face buried in my hair.
 
"Say it again," he breathed, voice rough with emotion.
 
"I love you, you impossible man."
 
His laugh was half-sob, rich and unrestrained and full of a joy so pure it made my chest ache. "I'll take it. God, Raven, I'll take it every day for the rest of our lives."