Page 25 of Eternal

DAMIR

“Talk Show Host” by Radiohead

Present

M ission day.

I picked her up not far from her apartment, she didn’t trust me enough to give me the exact address, not that I needed it anyway. I’d spent so many nights watching her place from a distance that I could draw every crack in the pavement outside her door from memory.

Is stalking even legal at this point?

Stalking’s not legal at all, then again, neither is the job I’m doing for the people who punish others for breaking the law, so, I guess that makes it fair game.

She was waiting when I arrived, leaning against a streetlamp like she had all the time in the world.

We didn’t, not even close, but she was calm. It should’ve irritated me, should’ve made me want to knock her down a peg and remind her what kind of world we were in. That she can’t always be relaxed for anything. Maybe I’m taking this whole thing too seriously, so, instead I watched her.

Fucking beautiful.

Her hair was wild, loose curls catching the faint glow of the streetlights. It looked soft, too soft for someone like me to touch without ruining it. My grip tightened on the steering wheel, the leather creaking under my fingers.

What the hell was this?

It’s only fucking hair. Focus.

But it wasn’t just hair, it was hers, and somehow, that made it different, like it was something worth taking my time analyzing.

I tore my gaze away, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

Don’t lose yourself. Not over this. Not over her.

She walked toward the car, her big sports bag slung over her shoulder, she didn’t rush, and from the look I got from her, it looks like I even disturbed her peace.

“Hey,” she said, her voice low, as she slid into the seat.

“Hey,” I managed to reply, my throat dry.

The bag landed heavily at her feet as she buckled herself in, leaning back with a soft exhale, the scent of her filled the car immediately, sweet, light… like strawberries.

I swallowed hard and kept my eyes on the road as I pulled away. She was close, closer than she’d ever been, and I hated how much I noticed it.

She didn’t talk, she stared out the window, her fingers resting lightly on the edge of her bag, I caught myself glancing at her from the corner of my eye, I shouldn’t have.

Her hair shifted with every bump in the road, and all I could think about was how it would feel to run my fingers through it. Did it smell like strawberries? Or was it her skin smelling that soft and sweet?

I gritted my teeth, trying to shove the thought aside.

But she made it impossible.

What the hell was so attractive about a scar? A long, jagged thing cutting across her jaw and neck like a violent secret she wasn’t hiding, or the ones on her hands, delicate hands that shouldn’t look so damn lethal.

Scars aren’t beautiful, not on me, not on anyone.

They’re failures carved into flesh, mistakes, vulnerabilities, moments when the world proved it could break you.

But on her? They were beautiful.

I don’t fucking know why, and that pissed me off.

The silence between us wasn’t awkward, it was heavy…I wanted her to talk.

“Long drive,” she murmured finally, her voice breaking through my thoughts.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.

She didn’t say anything else, she leaned back, her head resting lightly against the window, eyes closed. Anyone else might’ve thought she was calm, relaxed, even careless.

My hands tightened on the wheel, this wasn’t me, I didn’t lose my focus, I didn’t get caught up in shit that didn’t matter.

But here I was, completely off my game, not because she was in my car, but because of how normal it felt, how goddamn easy it was to let myself notice her.

I hated it.

But I couldn’t stop.

The ride to the hotel was mostly quiet.

Kat had sent us the location of a mid-tier hotel in the city near the coordinates Viktor mentioned. It was close enough to the target to be useful but discreet enough not to draw attention.

“Tell me the plan again,” she said finally, breaking the silence.

I glanced at her, and she was already looking at me. For a second, I lost track of what I was going to say.

I forced myself to look away, back at the road. “We’re in the city where the shipment disappeared and know the route it was on before it went dark. We start there, canvas the area, track its movements, and find a lead. It’s not perfect, but it’s what we’ve got.”

It was a barebones plan, too slow, too uncertain for two people alone in hostile territory. The Cosa Nostra might tolerate us poking around for now but you never know.

Some of their clans still didn’t trust the Zennites and outright despised the alliance with the Bratva, not surprising, every alliance had its cracks, and rebellions.

Their “support” here could as easily mean a trap, a few rogue factions waiting for an excuse to sabotage us.

Her head tilted slightly; pretty confident eyes fixed on me. “That’s the plan Vik gave us. What’s yours, partner?”

Partner.

My jaw tightened. “Mine’s the same for now.”

Her lips twitched, not a smile but enough to feel like she’d called me out without saying it outright. “You don’t sound convinced.”

“I’m not,” I admitted. “But it’s all we’ve got unless you have something better.”

The SUV hit a bump, and I shifted gears, my hand brushing her thigh in the process. The movement was entirely accidental, a reflex from adjusting the speed but she didn’t flinch, didn’t acknowledge it.

Her gaze stayed on me. “I want to know what we’re walking into,” she said, her voice steady. “No surprises. And if we need to study it for days before going for it, we’ll do it, rushing could kill us.”

I sighed. “We’ll scout the area when we get there, we’ll figure it out.”

Voron leaned back, her arms crossing over her chest as she turned slightly to face me. “You’ve been watching me the whole ride.”

I kept my eyes on the road. “I like watching you.”

She didn’t respond immediately, and I could feel her eyes on me. After a beat, her voice was cool, like she already knew the answer. “Partner curiosity?”

I smirked, glancing over at her. “Am I not allowed to watch you?”

She shot me a quick look. “Creep.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You were pretending to sleep. I could see your eyes moving, you know. Who’s the creep now?”

“Whatever the creep says,” she muttered, then added, “I hope you’re as good as they say.”

I couldn’t help the slight smirk that tugged at my lips. “You’ve been digging into me, haven’t you? Getting cautious.”

Her eyes narrowed a little. “Of course. Still not convinced by the whole ‘good soldier’ thing. Why’s it so hard to find anything on you? Every time I dig, I hit a brick wall.”

She really had tried, I knew she’d hit dead ends, but she wouldn’t get it, nothing about me was real.

I was a ghost. No past to dig up, no trackable info to follow, every file, every record, was buried, erased, or false.

They taught us how to disappear, how to make sure there was nothing left behind except shadows.

She could dig all she wanted, but all she’d ever find were the parts I allowed her to find.

“Maybe they don’t want you finding out too much,” I said, my voice casual, letting it sound like a joke. It wasn’t.

She shot me a knowing look, her lips curling into a teasing smile. “I know when someone’s hiding their identity, Damir. I’ve been there before. And I’m better at it than you.”

I let out a low laugh, my lips twitching. “Is that so?” I glanced over at her, my voice turning playful. “Find one thing about me, and I’ll tell you everything else. You’ve got one shot.”

Her smile widened, a flicker of challenge in her eyes. “You really think I can’t find anything?”

I leaned back in the seat, keeping my gaze on the road but feeling the smile appearing on my lips. “Try me.”

She gave a soft laugh, and replied, “You’re on.”

She won’t find anything, but it’ll be amusing to see her try.

We pulled into the hotel parking lot just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Katarina had done well picking this place, it’s quiet, unassuming, the kind of hotel you’d forget the moment you checked out. Perfect .

I stepped out first and rounded the car to open her door, she hesitated for half a second, her gaze curious as it flicked to me. “Why are you acting like a gentleman?”

A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “Told you. I take care of my partners,” I said, reaching for her bag.

She didn’t let go immediately, her grip firm, our fingers brushed for a moment, her haunting eyes locking onto mine, close enough now to catch the flicker of suspicion beneath the vivid colors.

“Only a man of words,” she muttered, releasing the bag.

“Man of action.”

“Isn’t that what they all say?”

“Actions take time, Voron. Something you don’t seem inclined to give me.”

She tilted her head slightly. “And you always deliver results if you have the time?”

“ Always ,” I said, smiling back at her insolence.

She didn’t respond, she turned toward the lobby, and I followed a step behind, watching the subtle tension in her shoulders, the way her hands hovered near her sides.

“You might have to learn to trust me,” I said, low and calm, more to myself than her.

Trust me to ruin you.

Her pace didn’t falter, but I caught the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth, as if she was suppressing a smile.

“I’ll never trust a man. All you do is lie and pretend.” Her words were cold, but not without a trace of something softer, bitterness, maybe. “So, thanks. But no thanks.”

How sad is it that she’s right about everything? Mostly about me.

All I do is lie and pretend.

Two fake IDs, no questions asked; and a few minutes later, we had the key to our room, two beds, big enough for the both of us.

Inside, I dropped her duffel bag by the door, mine on the bed nearest the window. As I started unpacking, I glanced at her, she’s always so focused, like she had a map of everything in her mind.

She pulled out two knives from her bag, black matte handles, sleek and deadly, one of them had a white letter etched into it: A .

Her name? Or something else entirely?

I leaned against the wall, watching her work, the way she checked the weapons was hypnotic.

“We’re meeting Moretti’s people in three hours,” I said, my tone casual. “Plenty of time to prepare.”

She didn’t even glance at me, her focus locked on the gun in her hand.

“Voron,” I said, this time softer, testing the waters.

Her hands stilled, for a fraction of a second, before she resumed cleaning.

“What’s your real name?” I asked.

Her eyes finally met mine, cold and impenetrable. “Don’t ask.”

My lips tugged into a small smile. “Does it start with an A?”

She tilted her head, the faintest flicker of reaction betraying her. “And why would you think that?”

I pushed off the wall and moved closer, slow enough to gauge her mood.

The faint scent of her perfume hit me before I reached for the knife on the bed, I traced the letter etched into the handle with my thumb and smiled looking at her, with no particular reason.

“You should be more careful, partner. Makes it easier for people to figure you out.”

Her hand shot out, snatching the knife back with startling speed.

She leaned in, her voice a low whisper, and that sweet tone caressed my neck.

“And you should be more careful not to touch my weapons without permission, Damir. My patience is nonexistent, and I wouldn’t think twice about stabbing you before you finish your little investigation. ”

For a split second, I thought she might actually do it, and I liked it, that threatening attitude, then, she turned back to her gear, leaving me with a quiet laugh and the faintest thrill in my chest.