Page 18 of Eternal

AZRA

“Addicted To You” by Avicii

Present

I step back inside, and the noise slams into me, too loud, too much.

Viktor’s standing in the center of the room, glass in hand. He’s going to do it, the big reveal. Who’s going to be my partner? Lev, maybe. Or someone new, a new member? But isn’t that unsafe?

I don’t care, I don't want to care.

The vodka table’s right there, so close I can smell it.

My chest tightens, and for a second, I hate myself for how much I want it, one drink of it, only a sip and I could feel okay, for a little while.

I don’t even need much, just enough to take the edge off.

Because champagne isn’t strong enough, wine isn’t strong enough either.

My hands ball into fists before I even realize it, nails dig into my palms violently.

Stop it. You’re fine. You’re fine.

I press harder, enough to sting, and breathe through my nose.

Hold. Exhale. Do it again. Count. One. Two. Three.

The want doesn’t go away, not really. It’s still there, curling around my ribs, whispering in my ear to do it. But it backs off a little, enough to let me stand here and act normal, like everything is fine.

Kat’s standing behind Viktor, scanning the crowd. When her eyes land on me, she smiles. It’s so her, all bright and hopeful, like she doesn’t have any scars hiding under the surface.

God, she’s going to be so happy tonight. She has no idea he’s about to name her his right hand, I should be happy for her. I am happy for her, I shouldn’t think of anything else. Only her happiness.

And I hate that my mind is fucking this up by remembering things. I hate that I can’t simply shut down and smile brightly at her, I hate it.

Drunk, I didn’t have to think about anything, high, I didn’t have to fight anything. It was calm, temporary, fake, and dangerous, but it felt like rest all the same.

But being sober means being awake and being awake means carrying everything vividly, every memory, every scar, every word.

And sometimes I miss the silence the pills gave me, the moments when I didn’t have to feel anything at all.

I miss it in the worst way, like you miss a toxic lover who made you feel good before they destroyed you all over again. It’s not love, it’s a trap, and I can’t fall into it again.

You’re fine Azra. Control it.

I glance at Viktor instead, my nails still biting into my skin, faint half-moons etched in my palms, he looks calm, like none of this is eating at him.

I press my lips together, swallowing the frustration crawling up my throat. I’ve got this. I’ve done worse than standing in a crowded room full of people pretending not to look at me. I don’t need the drink, I don’t need anything.

Everyone’s looking at Viktor, now, it’s dead quiet, then he raises his glass, and just like that, all eyes are on him, like they always are.

I lean against the wall, arms crossed, trying to ignore the dull throb in my legs from yesterday’s training. My head’s worse, though, still pounding from overthinking everything, like it always does, like it’ll never stop. Fucking annoying.

“Tonight,” Viktor says, his voice loud. “We celebrate progress and unity in Las Vegas. But more than that, we adapt. Changes are coming with these new alliances. To stay ahead, we have to strengthen ourselves. Which is why…” He stops, looking around the room.

“...I’m announcing a shift in our structure.

Starting now, Katarina will be my second-in-command.

She’ll take over half of the men under my command. ”

The room breaks into applause, loud and proud. Kat’s smile grows, her cheeks flushed as she steps up beside him. She looks taller somehow, like she’s standing on something we can’t see, something she’s fought her entire life to build.

I catch the way her hand brushes against Viktor’s, briefly. She’s trying to hold it together, but I know that look, she wants to cry, she’s trying not to let it show, but it’s there, the joy.

And Viktor? He’s proud, grinning like a fool in that quiet way of his, he’s always been like that with us, always made sure no one treated us like we didn’t belong, that we knew we were stronger, sharper, better than most of the men in this room.

Right now, he looks like Kat’s big brother.

He looks like mine too.

I pull out my phone and snap a quick picture of them. They look good, strong, and happy . And for once, that knot in my chest starts to loosen.

It’s stupid, maybe, but they’ve always been like that for me, the calm to my chaos, the only thing that quiets my head when it gets too loud.

But Viktor isn’t done, the crowd hushes again when his deep voice slices through the murmurs.

“We’ll also be forming an elite duo to handle our bigger enforcer missions. High-stakes, high-risk operations. Only the best can take this on. And tonight…” He pauses, letting the tension stretch. “I’m naming the two who will carry this nationally.”

My pulse spikes.

“The first,” Viktor continues, his gaze settling on me, “is Voron.” No surprise there. I already knew that, I’m waiting for the next name. “And the second…” His voice takes on a sly note, and when his eyes flick to the shadows, something inside me tightens. “Damir Koskov.”

I follow his gaze, and there he is.

The man from yesterday.

Damir Koskov.

He steps forward, and I get my first real look at him.

He’s massive. Broad shoulders, the kind of chest that makes a room feel smaller just by standing in it, his short hair is dark, neat but not too perfect.

His beard isn’t thick, enough stubble to give him that careless look.

Tattoos spill down his arms, black ink peeking out from under his shirt cuffs, some are fresh, I can tell by the raised lines and slight sheen. Then there are his eyes.

Icy blue, piercing, cold.

He doesn’t clap for himself, doesn’t look around the room.

No , he’s watching me. Me . His new partner.

The applause grows louder, and for some reason, it pisses me off.

Why would they applaud?

I arch a brow, tilting my head slightly.

Who the hell is this guy? He’s too new, and yet here he is, standing across the room like he owns it, like he owns me, and then he smirks.

Barely there, a small tug at the corner of his lips, but it’s enough to send heat rising to my cheeks. I can already tell; I don’t like him.

Viktor’s voice fades into the background as the crowd relaxes into celebration, and I’m about to grab another drink when I feel him behind me, really close.

“Glad to finally know my partner,” he murmurs, low and smooth, his breath brushing against my ear.

I stiffen, turning my head, enough to catch his smirk out of the corner of my eye. “You always sneak up on people, or is this just for me?”

He chuckles softly, the sound annoyingly deep. “You looked like you could use some excitement.”

I snort, turning fully to face him. God, this bastard is tall, I have to tilt my chin to meet his eyes. “Is that too obvious?” I lie

His gaze flicks down, scanning me quickly. “Way too obvious. You need to hide it even better.”

Stupid fucking smile .

I cross my arms, leaning closer as if to prove a point. “I’m guessing Viktor didn’t mention that I have a habit of losing partners in mysterious circumstances.”

He smirks wider this time, his head tilting slightly as if he finds me amusing. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not easy to lose.”

Oh, I hate him already.

For a second, we simply stare at each other, the noise of the room fading away.

Then, he leans closer, dropping his voice low enough that only I can hear. “This is going to be fun, Voron .”

Fun.

No way is this going to be fun.

I watch as he disappears back into the crowd, a glass now dangling between his fingers, the faint smile still playing on his lips.

He’s gone, leaving behind the faintest hint of something I can’t really name. Annoyance. Suspicion. Or maybe it’s the familiar burn of my own hatred.

Why is it so fucking hard for me to accept normal conversations with people? Why do I hate them all so passionately without even knowing them?

Is that what trauma does? Does it whittle you down until nothing is left but jagged edges and a voice that growls at anyone who gets too close?

I take a slow breath, and dig my nails deep into my palms.

Keep it calm, Azra.

Apart from Kat and Vik, everyone else can go to hell.

And when they do, it won’t be my problem.

Katarina and Vik are now next to me, she leans against the bar, one hand lazily twirling the stem of her wine glass, her eyes alight with that brat-shit glint as she watches me.

Vik stands next to me, looking like he’s had enough of socializing for the night, can’t blame him.

It’s always like this, the debrief after every decision. Family reunion, in a way.

I glance at Damir again, across the room, talking to Lev. To be honest, I never liked Lev, always found him too much of a bootlicker when it came to powerful men. He’s dumb enough to think it makes him important. Maybe that’s why he can’t keep his tongue out of the women’s soldiers business either.

Why’s he still here? Who knows, because Vik likes him? Maybe.

But if it were up to me, he’d already be in a ditch somewhere, crying about it. But whatever, I don’t like a lot of people, so maybe I’m just biased.

Damir looks too calm, too at ease, and it’s driving me insane. “Why’s he smiling at me?” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.

Katarina’s gaze flicks to him, then back to me and she smiles. “Because you’re staring at him like you want to gut him alive.” She takes a slow sip of her wine and tilts her head toward him. “Maybe he likes it. Men are weird like that, Visha .”

He’s standing there, not even looking like he’s trying, and yet he’s... smiling at me, a little smirk, like he knows something I don’t, and it makes my skin crawl.

Bastard .

I stop pacing, crossing my arms over my chest. “Or maybe he’s just a creep. My new partner is a creep.”