Page 93 of Eternal

DAMIR

“If I Had A Heart” by Fever Ray

Present

V esper.

She was here.

Viktor didn’t give me much to work with.

But I know the Pakhan and the Don were still based in the city.

That was all I needed. Either she was visiting them or chasing her own leads for her vengeance.

But either way, she was here, in this city, walking these same streets. Breathing this same air as I am.

That was enough.

The second I heard, I boarded a plane.

I didn't think about it, didn’t rest, didn't even wait for the blood on my shirt to dry, just changed it quickly.

It had only been two days since she stabbed me and kissed me.

Two days since she found out who I really was, since she told me her story and almost cried when I told her I would never leave even if she wanted me too.

Two days since she let me kiss her and touch her like she just wanted to know what it felt like.

Just a kiss. A touch. A caress.

I had a meeting with the man behind the mission last night. The one who assigned me to stop her, to watch her, eliminate her, if needed, and I missed it. First time in over fifteen years I didn’t report in. No excuses, no contact.

I was too busy trying to understand what she was doing in Vesper.

They’ll call it a compromise or an emotional breach. They’ll reassess me, replace me, terminate if necessary. I don’t care, I didn’t go.

I stayed silent, burned the clock and booked a ticket instead.

I stitched myself up in silence, took some painkillers. I told myself it didn’t matter if I bled out.

She was the mission, she was the one I was supposed to stop. And I failed, I chose to fail, that’s the difference.

I didn’t report her name. Even when I found it, I kept it to myself. All the truths they’d been searching for in the dark, I found them, and I kept them. Didn’t send it in, didn’t say a word.

Because the moment I learned who she really was… I didn’t want to give her up. I didn't want anyone else to know her like I did, the only thing I wanted to do was kiss her.

I promised I’ll learn her name to do so, and I kept it. I called her by her real name and kissed her.

I don’t know if I hate her, I don’t know if I want to see her again or strangle every part of me that still feels the insatiable pull toward her. But it’s too late.

She made this. She did this to me.

She cracked me open, gave me a name to crave, a face I see when I close my eyes, a voice I hear whenever it's silent, a person to miss.

You don’t get to wake up a man’s heart just to walk away and call it a casualty.

She stabbed me. Left me in her apartment, and now I’m here.

Still healing, still hurting. Still hers .

I landed this morning, rented a place downtown and then called Lev after sunset.

“You know if there’s anything happening in Vesper this week?” I asked.

Lev’s always too comfortable, too talkative. “Oh yeah,” he said, like it was nothing. “The Lebanese and Zennites have that monthly gala tonight. Some alliance peacekeeping PR bullshit, with fancy drinks, tighter security, not open to everyone, though.”

I didn’t say anything.

“You tryna go?” he added.

“Okay, thanks.”

I hung up.

She’ll be there, and maybe she won’t see me, but I’ll see her.

And that’s enough, for now.

So yeah, I missed the meeting. The first time in my entire life I’ve ever fucked up a mission this badly.

And I don’t even care.

I just needed to be where she was, even if she wants nothing to do with me, even if she acts like I’m nothing but a ghost in her rearview.

She thinks I’d leave. Like I was just a moment, just a mistake, like I didn’t bury a lifetime of orders for her, like I didn’t tear a hole in everything I was built to be just to see her one more time.

She doesn’t get to forget me, not after this, not after turning me into something I don’t recognize when I look in the mirror.

Because it’s too late now. Too late for either of us to pretend this is just a clean break. She made this mess. She made me into someone who wants her.

Now she gets to live with it.

She was my mission, and I became hers, and she’s going to learn that I don’t let go.

I changed quickly, black suit, nothing flashy.

Put a fresh bandage under the shirt, masked the limp in my stride. I fixed my tie three times in the mirror and didn’t recognize the man who looked back.

The agency will come for me, they’ll send someone, and maybe they already have. But I don’t care.

I don’t know if I hate her or if I’m just addicted to her. I don’t know if I want to see her again or erase the memory of her from every cell in my body.

But she doesn’t get to walk away like she didn’t do this to me, like she didn’t wake something up and leave it bleeding. I want her to see what she made.

A man who disobeyed, a man who stayed, a man who became hers, without even meaning to.

And she’s going to learn that I don’t let go, not without a fight.