Page 31 of Eternal

The door crashed open at the same time, and there he was, Damir, filling the doorway, eyes scanning the chaos, Rafe’s body slumped over the desk, blood pooling beneath him, the giant man I’d cut open lying still on the floor.

And me, crouched in the middle of it all, knife still in my hand, my face streaked with blood.

Thank God, he couldn’t see the cut or blood through my outfit. If he did... he'd make a scene.

I’m starting to learn this about him, his unhealthy obsession with controlling everything when it comes to me.

His gaze locked onto mine, and for a second, I saw this drop of concern in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

I didn’t answer immediately, focused on Rafe’s hand. Damir’s boots crunched over the blood as he came closer, but I didn’t look up, my fingers gripped the limp hand tighter, lining the blade against the finger.

“Voron,” he said again, his tone harder now.

“Shh,” I muttered, almost absently.

“ Shh? ” he repeated, disbelief dripping from the word.

The knife slid cleanly through the joint, blood spilled, dark and sticky, I grabbed a scrap of cloth from his own shirt, wrapped the severed finger, and tucked it into my pocket.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Damir asked like he was witnessing the weirdest thing ever. “You’re cutting up bodies now?”

“Personal purposes,” I said flatly, reaching for the phone.

“Personal. Are you serious?” He stepped closer, looming over me. “You were late for this?”

“Yes,” I replied, thumbing the phone’s screen. It stayed locked. I pulled out the finger, holding it up as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Damir’s eyes widened, his jaw tightening. “Voron.”

The phone’s screen unlocked instantly when I pressed the finger to it, the glow illuminated a flood of messages and files, same as the usb key, so I dropped it off and kept the phone closer.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“And you’re too dramatic,” I said without looking up, scrolling quickly. “It’s just a finger.”

He crouched down beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “Voron. What the hell are you doing?”

I didn’t answer, still focused on the phone.

He grabbed my wrist suddenly, pulling my hand away from the screen. The movement wasn’t rough, but it jolted me enough to make me look at him, his expression was unreadable, but his grip was firm.

“You’re maddening,” he said, his voice quieter but no less intense. “I thought you were in trouble.”

“I wasn’t, you should’ve left me if you thought I was in trouble,” I said, my voice colder than I meant. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“Don’t care.” Damir’s gaze held mine for a long moment before he finally released my wrist, his sigh deep and frustrated. He stood, shaking his head like he was done with this. “You’re gonna give me gray hair.”

“As if you didn’t have any already,” I shot back, standing despite the blood from my cut still seeping through my clothes. It wasn’t anything serious, but it made me slow, and I hated it.

Before I could protest, he was moving. One moment, I was standing, the next, he swept me into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world, his grip was strong, secure, and somehow.

.. intimate. I was pressed against him, my head resting below his chest, and his warmth enveloped me.

It felt so effortless for him, but my heart was racing like he’d pulled me into another world.

“What are you doing?” I muttered, but even I could hear the softness in my voice as my breath caught in my throat.

He didn’t answer, he simply stared down at me for a moment, his jaw clenched tight, before continuing to walk.

“Damir!” I shouted, struggling against him, even as I could feel my hand pressing against my side, trying to keep the blood from spilling out.

“You don’t get to argue,” he said.

“You’re insane! Put me down!”

“You’re late, hurt, reckless, and apparently cutting off fingers for fun,” he said, carrying me out of the office. “So no, I’m not putting you down.”

“You should’ve left without me sooner if I was late.”

“That’s not how this works.”

I twisted, trying to catch his gaze, but all I could see was the office behind us. He paused at the doorway, pulling a small device from his pocket.

“What are you?—”

A sharp beep cut me off.

“Explosives,” he said simply, his tone almost bored.

“Damir!”

The first explosion rocked the ground beneath us, the shockwave forcing him to steady us both against the doorframe, he started moving again, the sound of collapsing walls and roaring flames chasing us through the hall.

Once outside, he set me down but didn’t let go, gripping my arm as he pulled out his phone.

“What now?” I asked, still catching my breath.

He didn’t answer immediately, dialing a number. “It’s me,” he said, his tone clipped. “Take the shipment and meet us farther out, we’re abandoning the other exits. Burn the trail.”

A muffled voice responded, and Damir hung up, finally letting go of my arm.

“You left the shipment?” I asked, incredulous.

“I left it with one of the cars, unlike you, I followed the plan.”

I glared at him, but he was already walking toward the car.

Once inside, he gunned the engine, the tires kicking up gravel as we sped away.

“You’re insane,” I said, watching the fire in the rearview mirror.

“You’re reckless,” he countered.

I smirked. “Still alive, though.”

“Barely,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Silence fell between us, but he was the first to break it. “Whatever you’re doing with that phone better be worth it,” he said, eyes fixed on the road.

“It will be,” I said, holding up the phone.

Coordinates, a delivery route, someone in the Zennites gave them this, we’ve got a mole in our ranks.

And the fact that this man was way too stupid to orchestrate that makes it even more interesting.

An enemy of the Zennites, but only the Don and the Pakhan are working on it?

Weird.

“The Don asked me to be careful about who the thief was in contact with, that’s why I needed the phone.”

A lie, it wasn’t completely false, but it wasn’t the whole truth either, I had to hide the rest, what I knew, what I didn’t know.

“You’re gonna stain the whole car with that bloody finger in your pocket.”

A laugh escaped me, but that fucking injury on my stomach reminded me of its existence.

I felt the pressure building in my gut, my hands still pressing tightly against the wound.

If I stopped holding it, if I let go, he’d see, and I couldn’t afford that now. I hated how this felt, having to keep everything under wraps. It would’ve been easier working alone, where I didn’t have to pretend everything was fine.

He glanced at me, his eyes scrutinizing me. “You should’ve told me.”

“I just did,” I shot back, my voice tighter than I meant it to be, I settled back in my seat, hands pressing harder against my stomach, trying to ignore the sharp ache creeping up as the blood kept flowing.

I had to keep it that way a little longer. Once we were safe, I could clean the wound and rest. But not yet, not now.

He shook his head, muttering something barely audible.

I leaned my head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling waiting for the adrenaline to slowly drain from my system.

I let my mind wander, Rafe’s last words echoed in my head. “They warned me about you, Voron.” Who exactly had warned him? The Bratva? The Cosa Nostra? No... it didn’t make sense. They wouldn’t warn him about one of their soldiers. Someone else, then. But who?

I rubbed my temple, trying to clear my mind and stop thinking about this situation, the dots didn’t connect, not yet, and I hated that.

Damir’s voice brought me back to reality. “You’re quiet.”

I glanced over at him, catching his eyes briefly before returning to the window.

“Voron,” he said again, this time firmer. “Talk to your partner,” he added with that fake trustworthy look in his eyes.

I met his gaze, and his eyes flicked to my cheek. They narrowed, and a frown twisted his features when he noticed the bloodstained cut I hadn’t even realized was on my face. Without a word, he reached across the seat, his fingers brushing over the wound with a tenderness that made my breath catch.

Why is he so gentle with me?

I knew that he was going to lose it if he saw the one on my abdomen.

I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t, I was losing too much blood, and my vision was starting to blur at the edges.

“What are you doing, Damir?”

“Fucking hell, Voron,” he said, his fingers brushing against my cheek back and forth, like he'd heal it if he continued. “You’ve got a nasty cut here.”

I froze, caught in the moment. For a maddening second, it felt like the world had stopped around us.

His touch was gentle, almost too much so, as though he was trying to hold me together without breaking anything.

But I couldn’t ignore the strange warmth that spread through my skin, the weird feeling of comfort rushing through my veins, as if my body recognized his touch.

My pulse spiked, and I turned my head away quickly.

“You’re hurt.” His voice was quieter now, almost like he was angry.

“Yeah. Nothing to worry about,” I scoffed, trying to brush off the weird tension. “You’d think a man twice my size would put up a better fight than this, guess he couldn’t do more than a little scratch on my cheek and one on my arm.” and another one that is still hurting and needs care.

Damir didn’t respond immediately, but I saw his grip tighten on the wheel, his jaw visibly clenching.

Was he mad I got injured? Is he stupid? Why would he be?

He shouldn’t be worried about a scratch. I’ve had worse, hell, I’ve had deeper cuts and bruises from my training days.

He knew that before even starting to work with me, right?

He should’ve expected the blood and pain.