Page 38 of Eternal

AZRA

“Hold Back The Time” by James Bay

Present

K atarina is the most annoying, loving, person alive.

I eat too much. I can’t train. All I can do is stretch under her watchful eye like I’m some invalid. A private nurse checks the wound every few days, mutters about how well it’s healing.

And every night, without fail, Damir texts me:

Send me a picture.

Of the cut on my cheek. Of the deep wound on my stomach.

Like he has any right to ask. It wasn’t his fault. It happened on our last mission. A mistake, nothing I couldn’t handle. But that doesn’t stop him from acting like it’s his burden. Like my body is another thing he’s been ordered to maintain.

I didn’t think anyone could be more irritating than Viktor, but Damir is proving me wrong.

I pull the blanket tighter around me, pressing my fingers into the worn fabric. Katarina is preparing dinner for tonight because Viktor is supposed to come later.

Two weeks. That’s how long I’ve been benched. Two weeks of nothing while Damir handles the easier jobs alone. Do I trust him? Not enough. Do I think he’s a good soldier? Yes.

But none of that matters right now.

Because if I don’t act fast, I’ll lose Donovan’s trail again.

I flip open the journal, skimming past the entries I already know by heart. My mother’s handwriting stares back at me, slanted and rushed, smudged in places.

I already read this a few weeks ago. But this time, I’m not reading it for answers. I’m reading it because I don’t have any more time to waste.

Donovan. Still alive.

I should’ve moved on him sooner. But I was waiting for the right moment. A cleaner opportunity. And now, with Starline falling apart, he’s more exposed than ever. The family that once controlled half the politicians in the country is crumbling. His death will be the final blow.

I let my eyes flick over the next lines, the ones I already know but read again anyway.

I found a recent photo of him with the wife of a prominent politician, who was found dead the night after they attended a gala together two months ago.

His connection to her is suspicious, and the surveillance footage of him near the crime scene only raises more questions in my mind.

A red stain on his shirt… could it be blood?

Why is this footage unknown to the police? Alexei found it while threatening the man at the gas station near the crime scene.

My fingers tighten around the journal.

Donovan wasn’t just part of what she was chasing. He was close to it. Too close. Close enough that he started hiding, close enough that whatever power protected him couldn’t keep him completely out of sight.

That means I still have a chance.

I exhale slowly, forcing my grip to loosen before I crumple the page. I need a location. A window.

I shut the journal and push the blanket off, stretching carefully. The ache in my stomach is duller now. The pain is still there, but I can move without wincing.

My fingers brush the fabric as I shift, and something heavy settles in my chest.

The cover is old, a worn-out thing. But my brother used to curl up in it when he was tired, when he was cold. When the nights felt too long.

And now it’s mine.

I pull it back over me, pressing my face into it for a second.

I let myself breathe, for a moment.

Then I sit back up.

The journal is still open on my lap when Kat walks in, stretches like she’s shaking off the entire day, then turns toward me with a grin.

“Oh, so you are still alive. I was starting to think you fell asleep after whining so much about the fact that you’re imprisoned in your own house.”

I don’t look up. “Still breathing.”

She snorts, and heads back straight for the kitchen. A minute later, I hear the quiet clink of her spoon stirring tea.

“You look serious,” she calls out.

“I am serious.”

She walks over, tea in hand, offers me a cup, before sinking into the couch next to me, her body angled toward mine. “Who’s the target?”

“Donovan.”

Her brows lift slightly, but she doesn’t say anything right away. Kat isn’t the type to react with shock or doubt, not with me. She sips her tea, watching me carefully. “You finally decided to off him soon?”

I tap my fingers against the journal. “He’s resurfacing. Not enough to be reckless, but enough to be found. His business is gone, and people like him don’t disappear when they’re losing. They cling to whatever scraps they have left.”

“And you found his scraps?”

“I found it.”

I shift forward, pulling a folded document from beneath the journal. It’s a collection of surveillance stills, transaction logs, and reports I’ve gathered over the past two weeks, places he’s been seen, people he’s been with, and most importantly, when he moves.

Kat leans in, eyes scanning the papers with interest. “Alright, walk me through it.”

I press a finger to one of the images. Some grainy footage from a gas station security camera. “Two weeks ago, he was here. Late at night, alone. He paid in cash, bought a cheap burner phone, and left.”

I slide another paper on top of it. “Four days later, different place, same habit. Cash, alone, no security. He’s careful, but not careful enough.”

Kat tilts her head. “And the weekends?”

“That’s where it gets interesting.” I tap a third document, and it’s a transaction record. “Friday and Saturday nights, he’s always somewhere. No pattern in the location, but it’s always expensive. High-end hotels, private clubs, places with security.”

“So, he still likes luxury,” she muses.

“Yep. And he doesn’t just spend money, he spends it where people recognize him.”

Kat exhales through her nose, shaking her head. “Men and their egos.” She grins. “Present company excluded, of course.”

I roll my eyes and push the last paper forward. “This is from last weekend. He was at an exclusive lounge in Vegas. The weekend before, a yacht party hosted by some middle-tier arms dealers.”

Her fingers drum against her cup. “And this weekend?”

I hesitate.

I don’t have it yet.

“The next logical step is another place where special money parties are. Like a casino,” I say, shifting slightly. “He’s been spending time with people who still have power. He’s trying to prove he’s still worth something.”

That means gambling.”

“Bratva and Cosa Nostra casinos are out from here, the Lebanese are with the Zennites, and they’d have no business going after us,” I continued, rubbing my thumb over the journal’s cover. “That leaves…”

She exhales through her nose, already thinking. But I already know.

“The Turkish Mafia,” I say. “Big enough in the city to run these illegal games. And not reckless enough to be a disturbance to brave the Bratva.”

She whistles low. “Bold choice. I feel like you already have an idea of what he’s been into for years. You have that ‘I know’ look on your face.”

I close the journal and lean back. “If he’s playing in their house, it means two things. One, he’s either paying them for protection or trying to make himself useful to them, which also means the casino might be a hub for laundering money. And two ? — ”

“He’s betting high.” Kat grins, setting her cup down. “And he’ll be in one place for hours.”

My lips twitch slightly. “Exactly.”

She nudges my shoulder. “You’re getting excited.”

“Dying from excitement.”

And she’s not wrong. This is the closest I’ve been in months.

By tomorrow, I’ll know exactly where to find him.

But before I can revel in that thought, Katarina’s voice cuts through it. “Too bad you’re still recovering and can’t go there alone, right?” She drags the words out, already enjoying herself.

I exhale sharply. “It’s been two weeks, and if I stay one more day, I will genuinely start sniping people from my balcony.”

She barks out a laugh. “Psycho. You need to relax. Plus, tonight is dinner with Vik. You haven’t seen him in so long, you’ll see, it’ll cheer you up. Or, at the very least, he might bully you into staying here for another week.”

I shake my head frantically. “I hate you two sometimes.”

She laughs before kissing my cheek and getting back up to make sure the food isn’t burning.

“How’s my favorite child feeling? Is Kat taking good care of you?”

“You’re tiring, Vik,” I reply, taking a slow sip of my water.

He laughs, cracks his neck, and leans back on his chair. “It feels like it’s been years since I came here to have dinner with you two. Nothing changed.”

Kat walks back in with a massive bowl of fries. “It’s because Visha hates when people invade her space.”

I nod and look back at Vik, then casually steal a fry. “Plus, you two are too loud. This is supposed to be my peaceful home.”

Vik snorts and steals the fry right out of my fingers. “Peaceful home, huh? Harboring a killer? How many knives and guns are you hiding in here? Fifty? Sixty?”

“Stop stealing my food,” I grumble, glaring at him, but he’s too busy munching on the fry to care.

Kat’s voice cuts through as she looks at Vik like he’s a lost child. “You know, she gets angry when you do that.”

“I miss when it was quiet,” I mutter, rubbing my eyes like I’ve just woken up.

The dinner table feels like a family setting, complete with that warm, cozy lighting and the smell of roasted meat and fresh bread. It’s everything Katarina could’ve hoped for. But me? I never actually sit here. I always eat on the couch, alone.

Vik throws a piece of bread at me, smirking. “And I miss when you were half asleep in Damir’s car. You looked cute, angelic even.”

“Grumpy old bastard,” I mutter, taking a bite of the bread.

“Vik, your eyebrows are furrowed. Relax,” Kat mocks him.

Vik doesn’t look up, he focuses on his plate, cutting through the meat. “I’m concentrating.”

I roll my eyes. “On not choking on your food?”

He glares but stays quiet. “If you keep talking, I’ll put you back to sleep.”

“Oh no, I’d miss your delightful company,” I reply dryly.

“Can you two ever be serious?” She grabs the wine bottle and starts filling my glass first, then her own, giving Vik a pointed look. “She’s recovering, don’t make her stand up and fight you, or I’ll kill you myself.”

We eat through Vik’s terrible jokes, with Kat adding her two cents about how working with him every day is like being trapped in a perpetual bad mood. But then, the conversation shifts.

“You know,” I say, breaking the silence, “Something’s off with the Turkish mafia this week. I’ve been hearing whispers. Something with their casinos. Do you know anything about it?”

Kat glances at me with a knowing smile before turning back to Vik. “Yeah, we have someone inside, don’t we?”

“Yeah. Not an informant. A kid who works at one of their clubs.” Vik says, taking another sip of his wine. He looks at me, assessing. “What are you really asking? You don’t ask things like that out of curiosity.”

I take my time with my next question. “What if I go in and take them all out? You think you’d mind if I cleaned the house?”

Vik sets his glass down slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Depends. You think they’re gonna be a problem for the Bratva? If they are, go for it.”

Kat’s brow furrows, clearly surprised. “Are you seriously telling her to go in and kill everyone? What happened to laying low, because it’s getting messy out there for the Zennites?”

Vik shrugs, almost bored. “Azra does whatever the hell she wants. You should know that by now.”

I lean back, still eating some fires, looking between them. “So, you’re not stopping me?”

Vik takes another slow sip, his eyes never leaving mine. “Why would I? I promised I’d have your back. If this is part of your revenge, then I’m with you. But if you get yourself killed, I don’t want to hear about it.”

This is a part of my revenge… And he’s by my side.

Kat laughs, almost too loudly, and sets her glass down a little too hard. “Perfect but tell her to take a break first. She’s still hurt, Vik.”

Vik’s jaw tightens for a split second before he shrugs. “That’s on her, Kat. I trust her instincts. She knows when to unleash it.”

Then he looks straight at me, and his voice softens just enough to be sincere. The voice of a man I know better than anyone else. The one I trust. “I don’t want my sister running around with a body in a casino, but if it gets you what you need, then do what you have to.”

My sister. My sister. My sister.

I breathe a little easier.

“Alright, Turkish mafia it is,” I say, grinning like an idiot. “Can you help me find the next location?”

Vik picks up his phone with that usual nonchalance, clicking away.

A couple of seconds later, he’s talking to someone. “Yeah, it’s Vik. Tell me, do they have something this week? No, not for me…” A pause. “Okay, send me the address. Last one of the month, that’s perfect. Find an excuse and don’t go there that day.”

A few moments later, he slides his phone across the table and shows me that he sent me the address of their next casino event flashing on the screen with the date. “It’s packed with guards, all armed to the teeth. Be careful, alright?”

“So not tomorrow but in 3 days?”

He nods and leans back on his chair, “You’ll train back the next three days to prove to me that you feel better.”

I smile, getting up to give him a quiet hug. “Thanks, Vik. Makes my life easier.”

He hugs me back, but as soon as I start to pull away, he shoves me off. “Get off me, you’re too heavy.”

I laugh but go back to hug him tighter. “Guess I’ll see how high I can bet on myself at the end of the week.”

“And if you get into trouble?”

“I won’t,” I say, “But if I do, I’ll make sure to let you know.”

“It’s set then, kroshka .”

That’s what I wanted.

That’s what I was missing.

And now, there’s no turning back. I need to be ready. Because soon, this casino will be nothing but a bloodbath.