Page 94 of Eternal

AZRA

“Spitting Off The Edge Of The World” by Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Perfume Genius

Present

I really want to train today.

It’s 6 AM, the headache is gone, but the need is still here, just like I fought that need when training before, I have to do it all over again.

Train until the mind silences the body.

Exhaust it to the point of no return.

Nikolai sent me the address, and I just grabbed my keys. Same sweat I came in with, a t-shirt, and I took the bike straight to the location.

Vesper is a beautiful city. I really want to see the beach soon, because I really miss it.

Getting to the old building, after almost getting lost, already felt like a win, but inside, the Don was already mid-spar with another guy. He was taking it easy on him, even though the other man could clearly hold his own.

I walk over slowly, looking up at them until they notice me and stop. The other man grins and laughs at Nikolai. “I’ve got my 36-hour shift in a few minutes. I might be my first patient, you stupid fuck.”

Nikolai laughs and pokes the guy’s cheek like they’re two kids messing around. “Benny, Benny. This is training to make you a better doctor.”

Benny, apparently , heads down from the ring, still smiling. “Idiot,” he says to Nikolai, then turns to me and offers a handshake. “Hello, Miss. I’m Bennedito. I’m guessing you’re Voron, right? Are you here to fight this man over here? If yes, please, give him hell.”

I laugh almost shyly. “Hi. Yeah. Okay, no worries, I’ll try.”

He winks, then slumps into a seat in front of the ring with a bottle of water, sweaty and tired, but he’s staying to watch.

“Come on, Azra. Show me how you earned that reputation,” Nikolai says, nodding toward the ring.

I laugh, already stepping forward. “No good morning or anything?”

Nikolai just shakes his head, smiling like he knows I’m almost excited to start this session. “I went easy on Ben. You?” His voice drops, more serious. “You’re going to fight. Really fight me. Show me why everyone’s scared of you.”

“If it’s an order from the Don himself…,” I say, shrugging, “I can’t refuse.”

He nods, chuckles quietly like he’s just as excited as I am and then moves. No warning.

Training begins.

The first few hits are light, like he’s just testing, gauging my strength. I can tell he’s strong, controlled, but so am I.

Ben, his friend, sits nearby, still drinking from that water bottle and smiling at the spectacle. “C’mon, Voron!” he calls out to me. “Make him sweat a little!”

Nikolai feints a jab; I dodge… barely . He’s faster than I expected for his size. The man is big and tall, which makes them less agile, but he is.

His knuckles brush my ribs on a near-miss. “You’re holding back,” he says quietly and seriously this time. “ Don’t .”

“Another order….” I grit my teeth and step in harder.

The next few minutes are a blur of adrenaline, heavy strikes, quick counters, the sharp sting of blows that land when I slip up or when he does. Benny heckles us like he’s been hired for it. “God, Niko, she’s faster than you!” Or even, “Bastard, don't get old on us now!”

When I catch Nikolai off-balance with a low kick, he even lets out a whoop. “YES! Break his knees! For science!”

Nikolai doesn’t break focus, even if I can tell he wants to laugh. He’s scary calm, super steady even when I land a punch that splits his lip. “Not the face or the eyes, Voron,” he warns with a bloody grin. “They’re too precious.”

And even though I’m aching, even though my arms feel like they’re full of lead, I can’t help but laugh. It’s... weird . Laughing, and enjoying myself with new people like that.

We go again. And again. And again.

Every time I think we’re done, he pushes for one more round. I’m exhausted, dripping sweat, muscles screaming for me to stop, begging, I swear I could hear every part of my body asking me to rest.

But somehow, he looks at me like this is exactly what he wanted, not someone soft, not someone scared.

He wanted a fight, maybe he needed it too today.

Benny hollers from the sidelines, “She’s gonna kill you, Niko!” Then, louder, for my benefit, “It’s fine, Voron! I’m a doctor! I can put him back together!”

I throw a punch just to hide my grin.

Eventually, or more like finally, we both collapse onto the mats, breathing hard.

I could feel my heart might actually beat out of my chest.

“Fuck,” Nikolai says, chuckling under his breath. “That was fun, Azra.”

I drag myself upright, still gasping but smiling at this comment. It was fun. My body needed it and my mind needed it even more. “I’m exhausted. Might not even make it to your party tonight,” I say, wiping the sweat from my face.

Nikolai stands slowly, grabbing a water bottle and tossing me one. He raises an eyebrow at me. “You’d say no to the Emira?”

Ben laughs, shaking his head. “Oh, you really don’t want that. Z can be... impressively terrifying.”

I laugh weakly, but it stops when I realize they’re serious. “But what if I say Nikolai beat me to death and I need medical attention?”

Ben raises his bottle in salute. “Zee’s still gonna order me to check your vitals. So drink some water and suffer like the rest of us.”

I shake my head, half-smiling, half-exhausted. I don’t get it, them, this ... whatever this is.

Eventually we wandered out of that building, heading toward the parking lot.

“You even have a dress for tonight at least?” Nikolai asks, glancing over at me.

And that’s when full-body panic sets in.

Panic mode at its apogee. Oh fuck. “No. I don’t.”

Nikolai laughs softly, “You should ask Z. She’ll know where to take you.”

I hesitate, fingers twitching at my side. I don't want to owe anyone favors, but worse than that, I hate asking for help. But the good thing is, the Emira is fighting the same people, it’s almost comforting in a way.

I sigh and pull out my phone.

Me

Hey, it’s Voron. I don’t have anything to wear for tonight and I wondered if you’d be available to show me some places where I can get an outfit?

As soon as I hit send, shame punches me square in the chest. My whole body’s hot with it, red, embarrassed for no goddamn reason, I can see the flush blooming in my palms.

Ben and Nikolai just grin at each other like proud siblings and stay back, waiting, pretending not to watch as I swing onto my bike.

“Be careful Voron, see you tonight.” Niko says as I can’t hear him anymore.

I rode back to the house, muscles trembling, head still hurting because it’s been so long since I took that much alcohol.

I arrive a few minutes after and peel off my clothes, throw everything in a heap, step into the hottest shower I can stand, trying to burn away the nerves, trying to understand them, this... ease, this lightness I can’t name without flinching.

I still feel sore from training when I leave my phone on the table, but then it buzzes.

Zanae’s reply flashes on the screen:

Zanae

I'd love that. I'll pick you up in two hours.

I stare at the message, blink, re-read it twice, maybe three times.

She said she'd love that. It’s not just a yes, it’s nice.

I’ve never done this before, shopping outside casually with another woman, much less the Emira.

I pace the living room twice before grabbing my phone and calling Vik. He doesn’t even get a hello out before I cut him off.

“Emergency. I have to go shopping with the Huntress. Help.”

There’s a short silence, then Vik bursts out laughing loudly. I can hear Kat laughing in the background too.

“You’re stressed about shopping?” Vik wheezes.

“I’m serious, Vik,” I snapped. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s hilarious,” Vik says immediately.

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not !”

I hear Kat absolutely losing it in the background, then she yells over the line, “Oh my God, we forgot to teach her basic social skills!”

“Honestly, this is on us,” Vik says, sounding way too proud. “We raised a fully functional battle weapon but forgot to teach her that.”

“I’m hanging up,” I grumble.

“You’ll be fine, Kroshka ,” Vik says, still laughing. “Just remember, if you get scared, make a joke or something. Humans love that.”

Kat cackles. “Or like… a flower? No wait, a joke and a flower!”

I hang up mid-laughter, flipping them off even though they can’t see it, not that it would stop them.

I threw on clean jeans I brought with me, and a t-shirt, wiped down my boots so I didn't look like I crawled out of a sewer and tied my hair back.

By the time I'm done pacing around, I hear a car pulling up outside, I’m ten seconds away from jumping out a window to avoid this whole thing.

Because that’s not usual for me, instead, I force myself to breathe and step outside.

Zanae’s waiting in a car, window down, music blasting loud enough to hear it from the elevator.

She’s drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, and smiles when she sees me.

“Hey,” she says, reaching over to unlock the door. “So happy to see you, Sorry about the music… if it’s too loud, tell me, okay?”

It’s... It’s a lot, the warmth, the complete lack of calculation behind it.

I slide into the passenger seat, still stiff, still feeling like I’m walking into an ambush without backup. The second I click my seat-belt, my phone buzzes again.

New number.

Morning. It’s Elijah. Assigning you a new mission today: bodyguard duty for Zanae.

I blink at it, laugh under my breath and turn the screen so Zanae can see.

“Apparently I’ve been given a new mission today.”

She glances at it, smirking, then she shakes her head like she’s seen this a hundred times before. “Sometimes,” she says lightly, flipping on her blinker, “he forgets I almost killed him when we first met.”

And that... that makes me laugh.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

The shops Zanae picked aren’t the flashy ones, quiet streets, clean windows, expensive but discreet. It's calm, and safer, in a way.

We move through the first boutique, and I can’t help it, it's my mission for today, my eyes sweep every corner. Doors, windows, the woman behind the counter, tapping at her tablet, the man adjusting clothes racks near the back, the people who just walk by.

I clock them automatically, check possible exits, anything and everything at the same time.

And when I glance sideways? Zanae’s doing the same thing. Her eyes catch every detail, every movement, reading body language, micro-expressions, energy.

Still, the words slip out before I think, “Don’t be paranoid, Emira. I’m here for that.”

Zanae glances at me, amused. “That’s my job too,” she says simply, brushing her fingers lightly across a row of dark velvet dresses. Then she adds, “And please, call me Zanae.”

It throws me off, the request, the softness of it.

I nod once, almost confused, because I’m still learning how to accept kindness without flinching.

We walk through rows of clothes, side by side, every few steps, she’ll pull a dress off the rack, hold it up to me, and make a face. “Nope. I don't like this one at all.” Or “Pretty, but not pretty enough.”

I catch myself almost smiling. “You hate doing that, don't you?” I ask.

She laughs and shrugs. “Kinda hate crowded places. But this one's calm enough... and I want you to have fun.”

As we move, she keeps talking and I keep replying. It's soft and easy with her, but she’s still hyper-aware of everything. Turns out Zanae’s not just warm and kind. She’s smart, way smarter than I expected.

“People forget how much you can learn from a room without saying a word,” she says casually, flipping through a rack of jackets. “Posture, gait, eye contact, how close they walk to others. Your body never lies.”

I glance at her sidelong. “That's how you work, right? You read them?”

“People are like books, their story bleeds outside them, the suffering, the happiness, everything . It’s easier to understand them that way than waiting for them to talk.” She smiles. “I can read you too, Azra.”

I laugh, shaking my head, holding a dress up against me. “If you like horror books, please do.”

Her hand finds my shoulder before she says softly, “I feel comfortable in your presence, Azra. That says a lot about what I can read from you.”

And it does something to me, because then, just like that, she walks to another rack and calls me over.

Like she never wanted to make me feel weird.

And I smiled.

After an hour of hunting, we finally settled on a dress. I fell in love with it instantly, and Zanae just said, “We're taking this.”

After a few moments, Zanae insists on buying coffee. “No arguing.”

The coffee shop is warm and golden inside, soft music, not a lot of people. We pick the table at the same time, because of its position near the wall and the windows.

Always watching the entrances, always thinking, never resting.

We sit, drinks in hand. I’m still half-wired, half-exhausted from everything, still watching the door without meaning to.

Then I noticed her. A little girl with bright sneakers and messy hair, clutching a bouquet of flowers almost bigger than she is. Her mom trails after her, laughing, letting the kid pick whatever she wants.

It shouldn’t hurt, but it does, hard and stupid, right in the chest.

It hurts as much as when she hurt me.

I look away, swallow it, push it down.

When I glance at Zanae, she’s looking too. Smiling, but not the happy kind. The kind that says I know . The kind that says I’ve been there.

She doesn't say anything right away, doesn’t force it, doesn’t pity me. She simply sips her coffee like we have all the time in the world. Then, soft, casual, like she’s talking about the weather her voice comes out.

“My mom tried to kill me,” Zanae says. “I thought she was dead. She left when I was a baby, and when I saw her again last year, she said I was the biggest regret of her life. Sometimes ... I wonder what it feels like to grow up with a loving one.”

She sets her cup down gently, not looking at me, giving me the choice to answer or not.

For a second, my throat locks, everything inside me wants to shut down, push away, pretend I’m fine.

But instead, I quietly say, “I don’t remember my mom smiling.”

Zanae just nods, not surprised nor judging. “That’s okay,” she says. “You can smile for her now.”

We sat there for a while longer, watching the little girl picking flowers, and the sun creeped across the floor. After a while, she stands, brushing her hands off on her jeans.

“Come on, Voron,” she says, tossing me a quick smile, like she doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

I get up too, slower. I glanced at her properly this time. Her amber eyes catch the light, warm, bright without even trying. Inflamed with so much life.

They suit her.

I hope she knows it.

I clear my throat, shrugging my jacket back on. “Call me Azra ,” I say.

She just nods, like she knew that already. “I will.”