Chapter 175
Evelyn's POV
"Thank you." I tucked the card into the pocket of my hospital gown. "For—" I struggled to find words adequate to the moment. "For trying. For dismantling Kholod. For—" My voice caught. "For loving my mother enough to remember her. To keep that book. To—"
I couldn't finish. The emotion was too much. Too complicated. Anger and grief and tentative hope all tangled together until I couldn't separate one from another.
Nikolai seemed to understand. He nodded once. Sharp and military. Then took a step back. Giving me space. Respecting the boundaries I'd set even as I could see how much it cost him to maintain that distance.
"I should let you rest," he said. Voice back under control. "Your injuries need time to heal. And Julian is probably wondering where you've gone."
Julian. Who was sleeping in my hospital bed. Who'd taken a bullet for me. Who loved me with a fierce protective intensity that both terrified and comforted me.
"Wait." The word came out before I'd thought it through. Nikolai froze. Looked at me with cautious hope. "Before you go. There's—" I had to gather my courage. "There's something I need to tell you. About the dissolution. About giving the operatives a choice."
His expression shifted. Became more focused. The spymaster reasserting itself even as the grieving father remained visible underneath.
"What is it?"
I thought about all those young women in Vorkuta. All the damaged people Kholod had created over the years. All the weapons who'd never been given the choice to be anything else.
"Make sure they know," I said quietly. "When you give them their compensation packages and new identities. Make sure they know that walking away doesn't mean they're weak. That choosing a different life doesn't erase what they've survived. That they can be—" I had to stop. Breathe. "That they can be more than what you made them into."
Something shifted in Nikolai's eyes. Understanding. Perhaps even admiration.
"I will." He promised. "I'll make sure they understand that the best way to honor what they've survived is to build something better. Something that doesn't require constant violence. Something—" His voice softened. "Something like what you're building with Julian."
We stood there for another moment. Father and daughter. Spymaster and weapon. Two broken people trying to find some way to exist in each other's orbit without mutual destruction.
Then Nikolai gave me one more nod. Turned to leave. Paused at the corridor junction.
"Evelyn." He didn't turn around. "I know I can never truly be your father. Can never erase what I did or give you back what I took. But I want you to know—"
His voice was rough with emotion. "I want you to know that I'm proud of you. Not for being the perfect weapon. But for being strong enough to choose love over revenge. Connection over isolation. For being everything your mother was and everything I could never be."
Then he was gone. Footsteps echoing down the corridor. Leaving me alone with my broken ribs and tangled emotions and the business card burning a hole in my pocket.
I stood there for a long moment. Processing everything that had just happened. The dissolution of Kholod. The tentative bridge we'd built. The choice I'd made to let him try to be part of my life.
It wasn't forgiveness. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But it was something. A crack in the armor. A willingness to consider that people could change. That the man who'd broken me could also be the man who'd loved my mother. That I could acknowledge both truths without having to choose one over the other.
My ribs ached. My body was exhausted. But something in my chest felt lighter than it had in years.
I turned to head back to my room. Back to Julian. Back to the man who'd taught me that love didn't mean weakness. That vulnerability could be strength. That I could be both the weapon Nikolai had created and the woman Julian loved. That I didn't have to choose.
But before I'd taken three steps, a new thought crystallized. Sharp and clear and absolutely certain.
I turned back. Called down the corridor even though Nikolai had already disappeared from view.
"Wait."
Footsteps. Then Nikolai reappeared at the junction. Cautious. Hopeful. Afraid to assume anything.
I took a breath. Felt the pain in my ribs. The weight of the decision I was about to make. And underneath it all, a strange sense of rightness. Of something clicking into place.
"The wedding," I said. "Next Thursday. You can—" I had to force the words out. "You can come. If you want. Not as—" I struggled to define the role. "Not as the man who trained me. Not as Nikolai the spymaster. But as—" The word stuck in my throat. "As my father."
Nikolai went absolutely still. For a moment I thought he might not have heard me. That I'd have to repeat it. Commit to this terrifying vulnerability a second time.
But then I saw his face. Saw the way his carefully maintained composure shattered. Saw tears streaming down his cheeks as he pressed one hand against the wall to steady himself.
"I—" His voice broke. "Are you sure? I don't want to—to impose or—"
"I'm sure." And somehow, saying it again made it more real. More certain. "I'm not ready to call you father in private. Not ready to pretend the past didn't happen. But I want you there."