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Finn held Rose’s hand under the white tablecloth as Nik rose to his feet, the crystal champagne flute in his hand catching the light from the chandeliers overhead. The room quieted, conversations tapering into an expectant silence.

“I’m not one for speeches,” Nik began, his voice rough-edged with emotion. The accent that usually colored his words deepened, betraying his roots. “But Kathrine deserves the effort.” His face transformed as he looked down at his fiancée. The stoic mask he wore on missions vanished, replaced by something fierce and unguarded. Kathrine returned his gaze, her blue eyes luminous, her smile only for him.