Page 47 of Eternal
Fun.
No way is this going to be fun.
I watch as he disappears back into the crowd, a glass now dangling between his fingers, the faint smile still playing on his lips.
He’s gone, leaving behind the faintest hint of something I can’t really name. Annoyance. Suspicion. Or maybe it’s the familiar burn of my own hatred.
Why is it so fucking hard for me to accept normal conversations with people? Why do I hate them all so passionately without even knowing them?
Is that what trauma does? Does it whittle you down until nothing is left but jagged edges and a voice that growls at anyone who gets too close?
I take a slow breath, and dig my nails deep into my palms.
Keep it calm, Azra.
Apart from Kat and Vik, everyone else can go to hell.
And when they do, it won’t be my problem.
Katarina and Vik are now next to me, she leans against the bar, one hand lazily twirling the stem of her wine glass, her eyes alight with that brat-shit glint as she watches me.
Vik stands next to me, looking like he’s had enough of socializing for the night, can’t blame him.
It’s always like this, the debrief after every decision. Family reunion, in a way.
I glance at Damir again, across the room, talking to Lev. To be honest, I never liked Lev, always found him too much of a bootlicker when it came to powerful men. He’s dumb enough to think it makes him important. Maybe that’s why he can’t keep his tongue out of the women’s soldiers business either.
Why’s he still here? Who knows, because Vik likes him? Maybe.
But if it were up to me, he’d already be in a ditch somewhere, crying about it. But whatever, I don’t like a lot of people, so maybe I’m just biased.
Damir looks too calm, too at ease, and it’s driving me insane. “Why’s he smiling at me?” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.
Katarina’s gaze flicks to him, then back to me and she smiles. “Because you’re staring at him like you want to gut him alive.” She takes a slow sip of her wine and tilts her head toward him. “Maybe he likes it. Men are weird like that,Visha.”
He’s standing there, not even looking like he’s trying, and yet he’s...smilingat me, a little smirk, like he knows something I don’t, and it makes my skin crawl.
Bastard.
I stop pacing, crossing my arms over my chest. “Or maybe he’s just a creep. My new partner is a creep.”
“Or” Vik interjects, almost laughing at the situation, “he’s trying to piss you off, which, judging by the steam coming out of your ears, is working perfectly.”
How am I supposed to work with a man? I kill them.
It’s easier that way, being alone, no questions, no attachments, no waiting around for someone to screw up. No fear of losing anyone during the mission.
And I don’t need help, actually I could kill everyone in that room if I wanted.
I glare at Damir, but there's something about the way my eyes meet his icy blue ones that makes my nerves do a little dance. “You think this is funny, Vik?” I spit out, voice sharp, but there's a twisted amusement bubbling up in my chest. “You pair me with some... smirking, hulking Russian sniper psycho, and I'm supposed to trust him with my life?”
And what does he do? The bastard winks at me from where he is at the end of the room, in front of Lev, who's still talking about God-knows-what.
I feel my teeth grind together.
Great, fucking great.
And then Kat laughs, the sound rings in my ears, way too amused for my liking, like I’m the punchline of a joke I’m not in on.
