Page 17 of Eternal

Viktor smirks, exhaling smoke as he glances between us. “You’re asking my best friend to kill me? You’d betray your own flesh and blood like that?”

“You’re annoying enough to make it worth considering the worst,” Kat snaps, though the corner of her lips twitches.

I straighten up, forcing a laugh through my teeth, but it’s too late, Kat’s sharp gaze flickers to me, narrowing like she’s caught me red-handed, Viktor follows her line of sight, and his smirk deepens.

Viktor’s gaze shifts to me, softer than before. “You alright, Kroshka ?”

I lean against the wall, taking a long drag of my cigarette. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“Planning how to kill me for the sake of Kat’s little crises?” Viktor lets out a low chuckle, but his eyes stay on me. There’s something in his gaze, concern and something else, something deeper, something soft .

I exhale, blowing smoke between us, watching it swirl and vanish in the air. “I’d never kill you.”

The words hang in the silence that follows, unexpectedly. It’s almost like the first time I’ve said something kind, if you could even call it that.

Vik leans closer, his arm draping over my shoulders, his cheek resting on top of my head. “So, you can be cute and affectionate when you want to,” he murmurs, his tone stupidly soft.

Kat bursts out laughing, looking at us like she’s witnessing some rare, miraculous event, like she’s proud and happy.

“I’d never kill either of you,” I say again, firmer this time. Then I scowl. “But don’t call me affectionate.”

I wish I was, like when we were kids. I wish I kept that part of little me intact, but I failed her.

Vik grins against my hair, taking another drag of his cigarette afterwards. “So cute. Acting like the sweetest sis ever, right, Kat? She doesn’t want to kill us.”

“You’re both psychotics,” Kat mutters, crossing her arms, her breath clouding the air. She shakes her head like she’s seen enough of us. “And be careful, the smoke could burn her hair, you idiot.”

Viktor smirks, far too amused. “Get inside, Sistra . Your lips are trembling.”

Kat nods, sending us a playful flying kiss before disappearing into the house.

“How long did she stay in Russia?” I ask.

“Seven years. She wasn’t feeling well when you disappeared. And my father thought she was weak. He sent her there to harden her.”

I nod, “That’s fucked.”

Viktor steps closer, his arm falling away as his usual businesslike expression settles back in place, but beneath it, there’s something more serious. He flicks open his lighter, the soft flame catching as he lights another cigarette.

“You smoke too much, lately. What’s stressing you?”

He shrugs, “Life?”

“Seriously, Vik.”

“I’ve got something big to announce tonight,” he says. He exhales a thin stream of smoke, his words curling between us. “We’re putting together an elite duo for enforcer missions. High-risk, high stakes, and I want you in it, with another member.”

I didn't respond immediately, I know what he’s doing. How he sees me. Alone. Capable. Strong. But also, how I operate best: untethered, no strings, no one slowing me down or second-guessing my moves.

He studies me, his cigarette burning low between his fingers, the ash threatening to fall, his eyes flick between mine, searching.

“I know you love working alone,” he says finally.

“Hell, I’d trust you solo against anyone.

But I’m not sending you out there by yourself again.

Not to exhaust you when you have your own mission to accomplish. ”

“Who’s idea, was it?” I ask.

He pauses, his gaze hardening, “Pakhan’s orders.

Shit’s brewing. Might not hit us here, but we’re in the crosshairs.

We need to stay ahead, we need to be careful.

” he continues, his words clearer than before, “I’m assigning someone to keep an eye on you, on the missions.

Not as a babysitter, but... someone to back you up.

You don’t get to die for this shit alone. ”

“I don’t need a protector,” I replied.

“I know you don’t,” he says, his voice softer now, like he understands something I don’t want to admit. “But I need you alive. I need you to finish what you started, what you came back here for.”

I exhale a long breath, it’s not a fight I want to pick tonight, not with him. “Okay, is that it?”

He nods, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips, like he’s trying to lighten the mood. “Gonna officially promote Katarina as my right hand.”

I raise an eyebrow and smile. “Is that why you want to keep it secret until the announcement?”

He nods again, the flicker of a smile fading as he exhales smoke. “Exactly.”

“Good. She’s gonna be so happy about it,” I say, my voice tinged with a slight smile.

We stood there in silence after that.

“I’m going back in. Don’t stay out there alone for too long, okay?”

I nod and he gets back inside, as I stay there, alone with the night, staring up at the constellations.

The stars are distant, cold, and familiar in a way I can’t explain.

I started drinking and smoking again but nothing too serious, not like before. I can’t even take pills if I’m hurt or if I’m injured. The idea of it, of falling back into that numbness, makes my skin crawl.

I don’t trust myself around it, not anymore.

But still, I inhale the smoke filling my lungs, the burn of it feels like a temporary escape. I blow out a long breath, watching the smoke disappear into the dark, like everything else I try to outrun.

Every time I wanted to disappear again, Tariq would remind me why I was doing this again.

He used to stand a few feet away from me, arms crossed, face cold. He’d bark a low, Get up .

I always wanted to scream at him, to tell him I couldn’t, that I was too tired, but I knew better.

He never cared about tears or excuses, pain wasn’t a barrier to him, it was a tool.

“You want to survive? You want to win, Azra?” he'd spit. Then stop fearing the pain. Stop fighting it. Use it.”

I remember my hands trembling, blood dripping from where the knife had slipped earlier. Training until the world blurred, sweat, tears, maybe some blood too, all running down my face until I couldn’t tell them apart. My body had ached in places I didn’t know existed.

My palms sliced open from gripping the blade too tightly. And every time I faltered… “ Again,” he’d say. And I’d obey. Again. And again. And again.

By sunset, I’d be crawling back to my bed, body broken. With the will of stopping everything and ending it. But even then, the nights were harder.

The room’s silence let the memories crawl in. His hands, my screams, the pills, the weight.

I remember once, Tariq sat beside me, no questions, he quietly offered me some tea. Then he said, “I don’t want to know what happened to you these last ten years. But your father would be proud. Amane would too.”

I’d smiled or tried to, even that hurt, my ribs felt like glass under my skin. And the tears would hide beneath shame. Because Amane stopped being proud of me when she stopped remembering my name.

I asked once about my real father, how he was when he was still alive.

Tariq had smiled softly, distant, drawing invisible shapes on my palm. “Strong. Smart. He believed people could save themselves, if they only understood the weight of their thoughts. Their values.”

But I kept thinking about how they could’ve stayed there, happy. No pain, no death, maybe my mom would’ve been happier like this…

And then he said, “Don’t be sad, they’re watching you, you know. Your parents, they named you Azra for a reason. You carry that purity, you carry them.”

Purity . That was a lie. I had nothing pure in me. I was the opposite, but he didn’t know.

He wanted me to try and be happy, live like they didn’t have the chance to.

And I did try.

I’m still trying, under the same stars that watch me every night, believing in me in a way.

Even if I get tired of it sometimes.

I’m still trying.