Page 400 of Eternal
Azra stayed close beside me. Each child she touched, each soft word she gave, chipped away at the walls of protection she carried. I could see the weight of it all pressing on her, making her smaller even as she fought to be their protector.
She looked lost at times, like the rage that fueled her was slipping through her fingers, leaving a hollow where hope should be. And I wanted to hold her, tell her it was going to be okay, that she didn’t have to carry this alone. But there wasn’t time, not yet.
“We get the kids out first,” I said quietly. “Then you tell me everything.”
She nodded, barely able to meet my eyes. “I will.”
One little boy tugged at her sleeve. “Will you stay with us?”
She smiled, wiping a tear she didn’t know she was shedding. “I’m not going anywhere.”
When we finally pushed open the church’s main doors, the cold night air rushed in. The kids spilled out, some crying quietly, others clutching at us like we were the only solid thing left in a world gone mad.
Azra moved through the circle of children, her voice was soft without even trying. “Sit close, hold hands tight. Don’t look back, not yet. We’re going to take care of you, okay? You’re safe now.”
I stood back, watching her carefully.
The rage, the fire in her, they all softened whenever she was near these kids, like something deep inside her stirred, something gentle and fierce all at once.
She could have been the best mom. The kind of mom who fights tooth and nail to protect her children, who loves without holding back.
But she never had that chance.
The past had stolen it from her.
The abuse, the scars, it left her broken in ways no one could see. I knew it because I saw the shadows behind her eyes, the way she clenched her fists when no one was looking.
A little girl slipped away from the circle and grabbed my pant leg, her small voice trembling. “Where are we going now? The man inside said we’d have a new home tonight.”
I bent down, letting my hand rest on her messy hair. Anger flared hot in my chest, knowing exactly what that pastor had meant. But right now, this little girl needed more than my fury.
“You’re going home tonight, honey,” I said, voice rough but sure. “I promise you that.”
She looked up, her fear a raw thing in her eyes, but she nodded slowly, trusting.
Azra watched from the edge of the group, exhaustion and pain flickering across her face, but she stood tall.
I stood back, watching Azra among the kids. Blood soaked her once-white dress, but somehow, some impossible way, she still looked like a fallen angel.
Her smile, soft and hesitant, lit up her face when a little boy shyly reached for her hand.
There she was, the woman I loved in secret and quietly. Fierce and broken, violent and gentle, all at once.
When she finally came back to me, her eyes dark and tired, she whispered, “We can call the authorities. But... I don’t trust them. Not here. They’re also part of this mess. I don’t know what to do.”
She’d just killed every single person inside that church. The cops could come, and we’d be the ones in the spotlight. Even if we saved the kids, the system here was corrupt enough to bury it all, or worse.
Azra sank onto the grass, exhaustion finally hitting her.
Blood still stained her dress, but her hands trembled as she pulled out her phone. I stayed close, watching her.
“My mom…” she said quietly, voice breaking. “She used to work for an organization. They fought cases like this, abuse, trafficking, exploitation. She was their lawyer, that’s how all this started for her. Maybe they can help us now.”
I nodded.
She tapped through her contacts and found the number like she always kept it there for some reason. Her fingers hesitated a second before she pressed call.
The line clicked. A calm voice answered.
