Page 41 of Eternal

“She found some secrets, didn’t she? Secrets she never should’ve known. Secrets someone like you didn’t want her to have.”

His eyes squeeze shut, a faint shake of his head. “ I—I don’t ? — ”

“Continue,” she urges, her foot pressing against his thigh, right over the wound, forcing him to gasp.

“Don’t remember? Don’t you want to remember?

” She leans in close, her smile widening, as her blade grazes his cheek.

“My mother was looking for something. Something dangerous. And you…” Her voice drops low. “You were part of it.”

A long, shuddering breath from him, then… “She found the shipments.”

Silence.

I feel the shift in the air, the weight of those words settling over us.

Shipments . Of what?

Voron’s eyes narrow, unreadable, and then she lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Of course she did.”

Donovan’s body trembles, his voice strained, desperate. “I—I didn’t—I swear, I didn’t know who she was… I needed to scare her to stop looking for this…”

“But you knew what she found.”

Voron crouches again, gripping his jaw tightly, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“She was digging into something, Donovan. Something so big that you and your people made sure she’d never walk away from it, and you made sure no one would survive after that night, to repeat what she found.”

And there it is. The confirmation.

“But your people forgot to check on the bodies after killing. Because see, I was still there. And I was still alive.”

I get it now, the reason she’s here, the reason she’s spent years hunting them down, killing them one by one. They had her mother killed, and Donovan, whether he pulled the trigger or not, was involved.

I exhale slowly; my hands clenched into fists. This is vengeance, this is why she’s doing this.

But what did her mother find? What was so important that some people decided she had to die for it?

I watch as he whimpers, his body sagging, eyes darting toward the scattered bullets on the floor.

“Tell me,” She whispers, her fingers tightening around his jaw. “What was she looking for?”

His lips tremble, and then, barely audible, “A name.”

My heart slows.

Voron tilts her head, her grip tightening even more. “Whose? The girl?”

Donovan gasps, struggling for air, his bloodied hands clawing at the chair, agonizing.

“It’s not a ‘whose,’ it’s a ‘what.’” His breath stutters.

“You… You’re looking in the wrong place.

” She tilts her head again, studying him, her gaze narrowing.

“You’re hunting monsters,” he rasps, coughing up blood, his voice weak.

“But it’s the ones pretending to be saints that you should be afraid of. ”

Her eyes narrow further. “What do you mean?”

His head lolls back against the chair, a dry, humorless laugh rattling in his chest. His lips part. Maybe to say more, maybe to beg?

But she’s done waiting. “Thank you for participating,” she says, a smirk curling at the corner of her lips before his voice cracks, starting to beg.

“You can now go to hell, Donovan.”

The blade slices clean through his throat, the sound wet and gurgling, his body jerks violently before slumping forward, lifeless.

She watches him for a moment, her expression unreadable, then exhales slowly, wiping the blade on his shirt, silence, stillness, the scent of blood and death hangs in the whole place.

She turns on her heel, preparing to leave. Then, suddenly, her fingers tighten around the hilt of her knife, with barely a glance upward, she throws it.

The blade cuts through the air, straight toward me. I don’t flinch, but I laugh, because the knife landed a breath away from my face, the tip buried deep into the wall beside me.

And my beautiful partner stays where she is, head slightly tilted, waiting for me to react.

“I could’ve aimed for your throat,” she says, voice cold, not the same tone I grew accustomed to. “Get down here and tell me who the fuck you are.”

My grin widens beneath the mask. She doesn’t even know who she’s talking to, and yet, I feel my pulse quicken, I’ve never wanted to be seen more than I do now.

Weirdly enough I want to talk to her, to touch her face and look at her when she’s in trance like she is right now, but I can’t.

She doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as breathe too quickly or too slow. She simply stands there, shoulders squared, her body still shaking with the fight she finished. Blood, hers, theirs, painting her soft tan skin, staining her clothes, the curve of her jaw, even her eyelid.

And somehow, she looks gorgeous .

I crouch on the ledge for another second, watching her. It’s almost a shame to break the moment. Almost .

Then, I drop.

She follows my silhouette when my boots hit the floor, she doesn’t even flinch, she tilts her head, assessing, waiting for what I’ll say or what I’ll do.

Again, I smile under the mask, she has no idea all I want to do now is talk to her.

“Took you long enough to see me.” I say, using my voice modifier.

I fucking hate this gadget, but I have no choice than to use it when I follow her.

I watch as she unties her braid, shaking it loose with slow and delicate movements. Blood streaks through the strands, dark against the low light around us, but it doesn’t bother her, doesn’t even seem to register.

My fingers flex at my sides, I always wanted to touch them and feel how soft they feel under my touch.

I shouldn’t be watching her like this, shouldn’t be thinking like this, not about her, nor about this whole situation. Because when I listened to her, I almost wanted to defend her and help her.

When all I’m supposed to do is stop her.

But I do, because she looks wrongly, devastatingly beautiful in this chaos, in the havoc she created all alone.

I should have stopped her before she killed them all.

Should have ended this before her blade carved through the last man’s throat, before her grief left a trail of bodies across the floor.

But I understand.

That rage, that precision, that need to avenge. I know it. I’ve lived it, but I changed it all and shut off my whole identity to forget about that despair and grief that made me crave chaos.

I became entirely Viper .

And now, as she breathes through the blood and silence around us, I wonder if I made a mistake.

I’ve spent years not being him. Not being Damir .

I let that name die, buried it deep beneath every mission, everybody, every kill that didn’t belong to the man I was born to be.

Then she said it.

She looked at me with cautiousness and pure confidence and used that name like it was something real. Like it was mine. Like it was me . And I remembered.

Now, I stand in front of her as Viper . Masked, hidden, but something about it irritates me.

Because she doesn’t know, because she looks at me like I’m a stranger when I’m the only man who has touched her wounds, who knows what she looks like when she’s unconscious, vulnerable.

That should be enough, but it’s not.

The room’s a mess, bodies on the floor, blood and death in the air like it’s its own oxygen. Her breath? Calm.

Like it’s another normal day for her. The hell is wrong with this woman? And why am I almost turned on by the way she looks right now?

“I saw you the moment I entered, but you didn’t move, and I was in a hurry, you see?” She finally talks again, taking back the knife that was still in Donovan’s flesh. “ Now , who are you?”

A laugh escapes, it’s almost nervous because now I get it, the whole legend behind her these past two years. She is a magnificent killer.

“You’re laughing? Fine .”

Before I can process her words, she lunges at me. I barely manage to sidestep her roundhouse kick, the wind from her foot grazing my cheek.

Damn, she’s fast.

I’ve faced a lot of fighters, but she’s something else entirely, her movements are unique, almost poetic and explosive at the same time.

I can see it now, she throws a punch that’s clearly Muay Thai, then transitions into a spinning back kick that screams taekwondo. It’s like she’s pulling from every martial art, and I’m trying to keep up.

I’m almost proud of her.

“Can you not fight?”

I dodge another punch, her fist whizzing past my face by mere inches. When her foot connects with my stomach, my breath catches for a second. Jesus, that’s a solid kick.

I can’t help but admire how effortlessly she mixes her strikes.

“Nice repertoire,” I say.

“Why are you simply dodging?” she snaps, breathless. “Are you afraid to hurt me?”

“I could kill you,” I retort, dodging again, but I can’t help but notice the way her eyes blaze with fury.

But then something shifts in her gaze. She’s... mad? “Fucking fight me like I’m worth it!” she screams, and the rasp in her voice sends a shiver down my spine.

She lunges at me, knife in hand, and I can’t resist the challenge.

My partner wants a fight? I’ll give her that.

I raise an eyebrow, letting the mask hide the small smile. “You want me to fight?” I chuckle. “ Alright .”

I slow down, cracking my neck and dropping my guns to the floor. As she comes at me with fury, I sidestep and reach out, brushing my fingers against the injury on her abdomen.

We roll on the ground, and I feel the heat radiating off her skin. There’s something wrong about this, fighting her I can feel her hard breaths against me, the way her body moves with power and grace.

“Is this what you wanted?” I tease, my voice low as I catch her wrist, pinning it against the ground. I can sense her frustration.

“Get off me!” she says. I can’t help but smirk as I shift my weight, pressing my body closer to hers.

The tension is making my blood boil, and I’m obsessed with the way she fights, the way she pushes me, challenges me.

“C’mon, show me what you’re capable of,” I say. I’m not only fighting her; I’m drawn to her in a way I can’t understand yet.

In this chaotic moment, it’s hard to tell where the fight ends, and the attraction begins. She may want to take me down, but I can’t stop myself from wanting to know her better, to explore the wildness that lies beneath her cold and controlled exterior.

She’s not even breathing hard.

That cardio… kinda hot .

“Not tired yet?” I mutter under my mask, not even trying to hide the sarcasm.

She shoots me a glare, eyes burning with fury. “You talk a lot.”

Another strike comes at my ribs, too quick. She’s fucking good. I lean back enough to let her fist graze my chest, close enough for me to feel it. She’s pissed, and I can’t blame her.

Her next move is a hard hook to the jaw.

And that’s when she really goes at me.

She’s fast, sharp, her fist comes at me like it’s on a mission to break something, probably my face, I dodge again, barely. Not bad.

I twist to the side, letting her foot swipe through thin air.

She's not quitting, she’s like a damn bulldog, her next kick is aimed for my chest, and I block it, catching her leg, her body feels like fire against my hand, and I can tell, she’s close to losing it.

“You're a killer?” she sneers, looking up at me through the mess of her hair. “ Yes, you are … So why do you keep it soft?”

I know I’ve been fighting to attack my whole life, but my body refuses to hurt her too much.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“I don’t feel like killing you... yet .”

Her lip curls up in that wicked grin. “ Funny . You're still holding back against me.”

Is she taunting me? I don’t know whether to punch her or kiss her.

Another punch, but this one’s wild, filled with rage. She’s losing control, she’s pissed, and I barely dodge it, but I’m getting tired of this, and I know I won’t hurt her.

Then I see it, the slight wince as she shifts her weight, favoring her left side.

The fucking injury.

I know it, I treated it, but I can’t let her see me show any sign of it.

I step back, deliberately, let her take another swing, knowing I’ll dodge it again.

“What’s wrong?” she hisses, voice sharp. “Can’t keep up?”

I don’t say a word, and just like that, she charges again, faster, sharper. She’s so fucking stubborn.

But she doesn’t know I can see every move coming. I’ve seen it all before, I trained with her; I fought with her. She swings again close enough that I can almost feel the burn of her fist against my face, but I lean back avoiding it by inches.

How does she still move like that? I mean, with a damn injury? She was trained to resist the pain and fight even if she bled.

Who the hell are you, partner?

She’s determined, though, every attack is cleaner than the last.

Another jab aimed for my head, I dodge, too slow, her fist grazes my cheek, and I feel the sting. Nice shot. Hope it won’t leave a mark cause in a few hours she’s gonna see me without that mask.

Her breath quickens, I can see it.

She’s getting frustrated that I’m still not answering her questions, and that’s when I do it, I push her enough to send her stumbling. But it’s not on purpose, I’m not hurting her, I’m trying to get her to think.

She hisses, eyes flashing. “Stop playing around.”

“I’m not playing.” I step back, keeping my distance.

I fucking don’t want to fight right now.

She stares at me, waiting for something, anything.

“Idiot,” she spits, wiping blood from her lip.

I don’t answer.

Instead, I circle around her, and I see her shift again, but she’s slower now. The injury’s taking a toll on her, she forced on it and even if it did heal a bit, it’s not enough.

I almost step forward, almost make the mistake of helping, but I don’t. I can’t . And again, for the first time in forever, I hate being Viper and not Damir at that moment.

“What are you looking at? Watching me from up there wasn’t enough of a distraction for you that you came down here to look at me better?”

I did want to look at her better, but I said nothing. I’ve gathered everything I need tonight, so I step back again, my gaze can’t move from her.

I didn't finish the fight, I didn’t need to. “We’ll see each other again, sooner than you think.”

I turn toward the window, my exit, and I feel her watching me, her eyes burning into my back.

I’m out before she can say another word.

I got the intel, I can think about it now. The injury, though... I’ll leave that up to Damir.

Not Viper ’s problem anymore.

I don’t look back even if I want to catch a last look of her face. My partner…