Page 120 of Eternal

DAMIR

“It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World (Cover)” by Jurnee Smollett

Present

I infiltrated the bratva when I was twenty-two.

It wasn’t my first mission, I’d handled smaller ones before, but this was the first time it meant something. The first time I felt like I was becoming something more than just a number in a file.

My team was scattered across different ops, unofficial mercenaries. We had no name. Just roles.

A mix of solitary violent boys grouped and training to become a family of murderers.

Ghosts . In and out. No trace. No past.

They needed someone inside the Moscow bratva, deep inside. Said there was a man rising through the ranks, maybe the next pakhan. Young, dangerous, trained from the age of fourteen like he was born for it. Everyone assumed he wouldn’t last. Too young. Too brash. Temporary.

But he stayed. He thrived.

So they sent me.

I had a cover. Join the military program where he was training.

Work, observe, wait.

Blend in. Find out if he was the real thing. I met him during drills.

He was only a few years younger than me, cold, quiet, violent. He was built for this role.

And always with him, that other one, Nikolai, the don’s son. You’d expect rivalry, ego… but no.

They were close, unnaturally close for two people who should’ve hated each other since birth.

Maybe even dangerous because of it.

The target was unclear. At first, they thought it might be the friend, or maybe the next name on the list. That list was paid for, funded by a woman, old, cruel looking, the kind of rich that smells like blood. She paid enough that no one asked why. So I stayed.

Two years.

I trained with them, bled beside them and in the fake team, learned to move like one of them. I became what they were becoming. But I never belonged.

They went back to the States. Got promoted, protected, and respected, I didn’t.

Got picked up in a minor bust, only a footnote on the official report. They arrested me in silence, there was no extraction, no medal, no “good job, soldier.” No one ever told them the truth.

To them, I was bratva.

One of their own, and maybe I was.

But I was never someone they could trust, not really, not even back then.

Because the truth is... I didn’t know who I was working for anymore. The government? The woman who paid them? Myself?

I didn’t know where I belonged. All I knew was the code they gave me. Viper .

And I guess the thing about being a ghost is... eventually, even you forget if you were ever real.

“It's been a long time, hasn’t it?” Elijah barely smiles, takes a slow sip from his drink.

“You finished your training in Russia?”

I shake my head just before Nikolai laughs.

“I was surprised to hear you’re an enforcer for the Vegas bratva now. What made you come back? I thought prison had broken you. You disappeared for years.”

When I think about it… I’m not even sure how to explain what really happened. We were building ourselves into weapons for the bratva.

Back then, youth almost felt hopeful.

Like we had a purpose. And then I vanished. I ended up in prison. One year. And honestly… I don’t remember much of it. Not because it wasn’t real. But because it was. Too real. Too silent. Too brutal.

Alone again like always, like before, no name, no family, no one was coming for me.

I guess when you’ve never had a home, being locked in a box feels like a return to normal.

Eventually, they pulled me out, another mission, bigger. And another one again and again. Until I lost my team. Until I started being alone again. Until her .

“You came back only to be an enforcer?” Elijah asks.

I glance at him, then search the room for the real reason I’m here.

The strange person who makes this loneliness worth it. My last mission. The only one I failed.

“I'm here for her .”

Niko gives a knowing smile.

Elijah nods slowly. “I see. She’s got a purpose. You’re here to help her, aren’t you?”

How could I explain that I was supposed to stop her? That everything is fake now, blurred, broken . That since her… nothing follows the rules anymore.

I can’t . So I nod. “Yeah. I’m helping her.”

And I mean it, no matter the consequences.

“We’re working the same case,” Niko says. “It’s big. The organization runs deep.”

I think of her, of how Azra traced the trail, name by name, thread by thread, all the way to The Veil.

She’s not far now, I watch her, and I wonder…

How did she know? How did she understand what no one else saw?

For how long has she been working on that case?

“I'm going to join my partner now,” I say eventually, stepping back. “Good seeing you both.”

I leave them behind, stand straight and grab another glass.

I walk toward Alexander, and he sees me coming, barely lifting his chin, that’s when he starts walking toward the outside court.

I follow him slowly until I stop beside him. “Beautiful dinner, isn’t it?” I say, voice low, eyes locked on him as I take a slow sip. “It’d be a hell of a lot better if you stopped circling around my partner.”

Alexander smirks, flicking ash from his cigarette like it’s all a joke. “We don’t get to choose who we’re drawn to,” he says, voice smooth but with that razor edge. “And trust me, I know her better than you ever will.”

A dry chuckle slips out. “You really think you do, don’t you? That’s adorable .”

He leans in just slightly, “You know how she likes her kills to look like? Dried tears on their cheeks, mouths open… if they still have their tongues, and tiny bullets scattered around their bodies. At first, I thought she’d lost it. But The Boss told Nikolai it’s her signature. Her... art .”

My lips curl, cold. “Knowing how she kills doesn’t mean you know her, Alexander. She’s not just a killer. She’s my partner. And I don’t tolerate idiots like you trying to paint her as insane.”

He flicks his cigarette aside, eyes glinting.

“I did my homework, on you, on Viper . Pretty interesting, huh? Found a protection contract, just in case we ran into you. In the bratva... or even in our own offices.” His smile sharpens, almost mocking.

“You’re classified top secret. The government’s been covering your ass for years. ”

“They told you to arrest her, didn’t they?”

He smirks, leaning back like he’s got the world figured out.

“A corrupt agent?” I say again.

He shrugs, eyes cold but calculating. “Yeah, the FBI’s been dangling a fat promotion for whoever nails Voron .

You know… that case that’s gone cold for years.

” His grin turns sly. “I figured, why not play along? Keep the bratva happy, feed them just enough… while I line my pockets. That way, I’m covered on all sides. ”

I let that sink in. A man who’s so deep in the game he’s fooling even his own people.

“And you think you’re smart enough to pull that off?”

He shrugs again, like it’s nothing. “Better to play the long game. The bratva trusts me. The bureau thinks I’m chasing the bad guy. Meanwhile, I get to watch the whole board from up here.”

He keeps walking around the courtyard, edging closer to the trees by the Lebanese compound. The light’s fading, and the air feels heavy.

He stops and looks me straight in the eye. “I got a deal for you, Viper . Or do you prefer Damir?”

My fists tighten. “What kind of deal?”

He steps into the shadows near the trees, half his face swallowed by dark.

A dry, sarcastic laugh escapes. “A partnership. We work together. I help you take her down… or make sure she slips up and gets caught. Everyone would think it’s a mistake, a slip-up.

Even the Zennites. And when she gets caught, they’ll arrest her.

They’d probably kill her, and that’s the end of it. Isn’t that what you want?”

End her? Never .

No.

I want her alive. I want her laughing; really laughing with me. I want to teach her what home feels like, keep her close, keep her safe .

I follow him, heart pounding, loud, out of control, that noose around my ribs is tight, choking.

Fuck , it hurts.

Hurts not to pull the trigger right now, thinking about her alone, trapped, broken . Not with me. Not safe. Behind bars. Underground. Silent. Forgotten

Can’t let that happen. Not to her. Never .

“The thing is,” he continues, “even with her pattern analyzed, she’s still unpredictable. She leaves a lot of blood, but rarely her own. Even the footage…I figured the best approach would be an ambush.”

He walks ahead, unafraid, barely paying attention. He still thinks this is just a conversation. That we’re negotiating an alliance.

We’re between the forest and the complex. A secluded spot. The kind of place people forget quickly… where screams don’t carry far enough to be heard.

Alexander slows down. Maybe he senses something.

I’m no longer listening.

I just watch him, and in my mind, the images blur together.

Her . In handcuffs.

Her . Bleeding.

Her . Hunted like an animal.

Her . Ripped away from me.

I see him pointing at her, selling her out, dragging her through the mud, and something inside me goes still.

What remains is something cold.

Something pure .

The fear of losing her.

“The advantage,” he says, “is that after studying her methods, I can anticipate her next move. She’s brilliant, but human. We force a mistake. And once we’ve got her… boom . It’s over.”

He tilts his head slightly toward me, still wearing that damn smile.

“So? Do we have a deal?”

I don’t answer.

I’m on him before the words are even registered in my brain.

My hands clamp around his throat, crushing, squeezing hard enough to please me.

The knife slides out from my belt, slowly. And I don’t care if we’re outside. Don’t care we’re in public. Or that they’ll find his body when I’m done with it.

I don’t care about anything.

I shove it deep into his stomach.

The blade sinks into his flesh. His white shirt blossoms red, and for a second, I feel… relieved .

He doesn’t scream. He just stares. Shocked . He didn’t expect it. What a fucking shame.

I pull the knife back. Then again. Faster . Harder .

No one. No one touches my Azra.

Since the moment he smiled. That filthy smile. The way he looked at her like she was property.

He’s paying for it.

Blood splatters hot, wild and hypnotic on me. On my shirt.

I can hear them. His muffled whimpers. His voice tried to escape, but the violence devoured every word.

“ Why ?” he breathes, gasping, eyes wide, horrified.

I tilt my head, cold, distant. And I whisper the only answer I find to every question. “For her .”

He stares at me, fading, then spits, “You betrayed your country for a woman… A killer ... How do you even sleep at night?”

I smile. “Next to my woman, well-fed, well fucked, her thighs around me and your blood on my hands.”

He tries to speak again, but the air leaves his lungs. Life fades. I watch him die. “Only a stupid bastard threatens the woman of someone crazier than himself.”

She will live. She has a mission to finish.

I let his body collapse, blood pooling, soaking into the dirt. The flowers around are almost all covered in red and I rise.

My mind spinning, rage, devotion, madness all tangled into one.

I see him dead at my feet.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He’s dead, right here, in the Lebanese compound.

I lit one cigarette, let the ashes fall on his body. Look up at the sky, take a final drag, then crush the butt on his forehead.

Deserved .

He tried to hurt the only person that matters to me.

I walk back inside, blood on me.

At the entrance, I spot Niko and Elijah. They look confused as I lean against the wall next to them.

“Your agent in charge of Voron is a fucking bastard,” I say, calm. “He tried to betray her.”

Niko chuckles. “So you killed him?”

I nod, like it’s nothing.

“Where is he now?” Volkov asks.

I tilt my head toward the back of the courtyard, near the woods. “He deserved it.”

Niko laughs again, pulls out his phone, and starts typing, probably texting his cleanup crew. “Elijah’s a bit like that too, don’t worry. Dead bodies at our events are almost routine now.”

That actually makes me laugh. “Goddamn. Women really can be dangerous.”

Azra. Azra. Azra.

My fucked-up Azra who makes me go insane.

Elijah nods like it’s actually a fact. “Mine tried to kill me.”

I smile and lift my shirt to show a still-healing scar. “So did mine.”

Niko looks at us both, then turns and heads back inside. “Mine makes me pancakes in the morning. You two are fucking weird.”

I stayed out there with Elijah a while longer.

We don’t talk much. We like the silence.

Maybe he thinks like I do. Like the noise is actually too intrusive. Like we never knew it before and it’s almost comforting.

Then his phone rings. I can tell by how fast he moves like his other half needs him that it’s the Emira.

He answers and says, “I’m coming back, Milaya .” Then he turns toward me, nodding toward the blood on my shirt. “We’re heading in. Don’t worry about the bloodstains, shit happens.”

That makes me laugh again.

We go back inside.

My partner’s on the balcony with Zanae, both of them lost in the night sky, smiling, drinking, talking like the world isn’t broken around them.

I watch her.

She’s… happy . And I feel happy . And I hate how much that terrifies me.

Terrified of what that means. Terrified of how much I feel.