Page 74 of Eternal
He didn’t move, his gaze still fixed on me, cold and calculating; it was like he was weighing my every word. Then, his voice dropped lower. “You’ve planned this down to the last detail, but it’s risky, you don’t know who’s behind this deal, or how they’ll be protecting themselves. They could be anything,bomb specialist, ex-enforcer, you don’t know. If that’s the case…”
I forced a smile and interrupted him quickly. “That’s why I didn’t ask for your opinion, Damir. You’d never let me take the risk because you think I’m weak.”
His jaw tightened. “You’re nothing but weak, and that’s why I don’t trust the risk you’re taking.”
“Then don’t trust it, just get ready,” I said, before he could reply I turned and pulled my knife, disappearing into the shadows of the warehouse before he could press further.
24
AZRA
“How Villains Are Made” by Madalen Duke
Present
Focus, Azra. Focus.
Every mission starts the same way, no matter how indignant or messy it might get, no matter the issue or the difficulty.
The process is always the same. Emptiness first, I lock away my morality, stowing it in the recesses of my mind where it can’t reach me while I fight.
Humanity doesn’t belong here, not when a knife is in my hand or when I aim a gun on someone.
No stress. No hesitation.
I can’t afford either, I have to become a machine the moment my feet step into the perimeter of the mission, no feelings are allowed.
Anything less would get me killed.
Vik always said that calling me during missions wouldn’t even help to bring me back.
I think he’s stupid because this isn’t true, the only feeling allowed when I’m not Voron, butAzrais rage.
Deep breaths.Let's go.
The corridors here were exactly as I thought they’d be, cold and quiet, nothing out of the ordinary, this kind of place was always calm and silent at this hour.
My boots made no sound against the concrete floor while I crept along the loading dock slowly.
Two missions in one.
A stolen shipment and the man behind it.
It should be simple, but in reality, I was one misstep away from catastrophe, especially with Damir nearby being all watchful and suspicious.
He was clearing the front exit, and I could hear the muffled echoes of scuffles, the bodies hitting the ground, the sharp hiss of suppressed shots.
This rebellious clan were amateurs.
That’s almost sad for them.
I slipped through the maze of crates, and my eyes were fixed on the office at the far end of the loading dock. I’m pretty sure he’s there.
This is a stupid steal, but Ricciano wasn’t the one behind it and from what I’m seeing, he’s clearly a negligent thief. This wasn’t protected well at all; he was way too confident that the worst part was already done.
A faint sound of feet behind me had me spinning, a man stepped out; his pistol raised toward me.
Finally, some action.
