Chapter Text
Eve despised weddings.
No, to put it more delicately, she loathed every aspect of weddings from the engagement all the way up to the bride and groom fucking off to their honeymoon. Just sign the papers and get it over with. Even the small backyard wedding Niko had talked Eve into all those years ago was bloated with saccharine sentimentality. Weddings were a waste of everyone's time, and Eve had better things to do.
So finding out her next assignment would have to take place at a wedding was like waking up with needles in her eyes. A special kind of painful.
It was bound to happen, and deep down, Eve knew that. Weddings were a highly emotional event. Emotional people, and this was crucial to someone in Eve's profession, were less likely to pay attention. So what a better opportunity to get rid of somebody when everyone else was too emotional about the big event to notice?
It was perfect, and Eve still hated having to be here.
Eve stood between two pillars in a white dress shirt, black vest, and matching black pants surrounded by St. Petersburg's nouveau riche. The wedding had ended four hours ago, and the reception was in full swing. The bridal party had spared no expense for the daughter's big day, reception included. Ice sculptures of giant swans bedecked the massive ballroom. Crystals dripped from the pillars. They had four open bars- for fuck's sake, weren't people starving in this country?
Still. Eve had a job to do. Receptions were marginally better, she reasoned with herself. Still disgustingly sentimental, but at least everyone was drunk and complacent and packed into the hotel ballroom where she could see them. As far as they knew, the hard part was over. Vows given, rings exchanged, so now the only thing left to do was celebrate. And celebrate these people did. Guests danced raucously to a eurobeat song that seemed to repeat the chorus over and over again in a kind of torture even Eve wasn't creative enough to come up with. Eve tucked a loose strand of hair back into her bun with her free hand, her other hand balancing a tray of champagne glasses. Just another hour of this hell.
Eve's eyes maintained that glazed over quality expected of service workers. Guests stumbled drunkenly toward her, snatching up drinks and paying little mind to the person holding them. There was only one person at this event Eve cared about, and her name was Masha Sotnikova. The bride's older sister. Currently, Masha was alone at a bar, nursing a glass of whiskey. Eve needed her outside, but based off the information she'd found out about her, she didn't expect that to happen for another thirty minutes. Her plan was going perfectly.
So why did she feel so bored?
Normally, carrying out assignments was the highlight of Eve's week. The way all the research and the planning came together into one perfect kill... it was like climbing a mountain and reaching the top. But something about tonight felt uninspired. Biting the inside of her cheek, Eve resisted the urge to check the time on her phone.
Are you thinking about me? a Russian-accented voice whispered in her head.
Eve's placid facial expression slipped into one of annoyance. Her. The Oksana problem. Because over the past week Oksana had graduated from a mildly interesting encounter to a problem. What the hell was she thinking showing up at Eve's house like that? How did an underpaid forensic assistant even find out where Eve lived? She had no resources. No connections. She was no one. And somehow she had found Eve.
Not just found Eve.
She'd actively sought Eve out.
The only time anyone did that was when they were trying to kill her. Which to be fair, Oksana tried, quite pathetically. Still, there was something admirable in her tenacity. She had to know she'd be outmatched by Eve, and she'd still tried to kill her. The way she'd lunged at Eve with that fork- Eve smiled, feeling surprisingly lightheaded. She wasn't even close to completing her assignment yet, and here she was grinning like a schoolgirl.
Eve's phone vibrated.
Eve snapped back into the present. She had a very important rule during her assignments: do not check her phone. If it was Bill though... it could be important, even related to the assignment. Almost on cue, a guest grabbed Eve's last champagne glass. This gave Eve the opportunity to return to the butler's pantry and refill her tray. And... check her phone while she was at it. It would eat at her all night if there was a detail she failed to account for.
Alone in the butler's pantry, Eve set the tray down and grabbed a few champagne glasses to make it look like she was doing her job. When she opened her phone, an unknown number greeted her.
saw this and thought of you <3
Below the text was a stock photo of a prison cell.
Eve's dark eyes narrowed. This was not Niko. This was not Bill. Which meant- god dammit.
How. In the hell. Did Oksana get her phone number?
She typed slowly and calmly to balance out the urge to hurl one of these champagne bottles to the floor. Her message was simple and blunt.
How did you get my number?
Before Eve even had a chance to put her phone away, the next four texts appeared in rapid succession. Eve could picture Oksana's frenzied face with startling clarity as she hurried to type each one out.
your husband is very gable
gullble
GULLIBLE
fucking autocorrect
What followed was a string of emojis that Eve assumed had some kind of emotional connotation attached to them. Embarrassment? Irritation? The winky face at the end felt far more cryptic than a winky face should ever be.
You're awfully chatty tonight, Eve typed back.
I'm
BORED
Eve stared flabbergasted at her screen. Not only did Oksana have the nerve to show up at her house, she also had the nerve to get Eve's phone number from her husband then text her because she was bored? Where was she right now? Sitting at some overpriced cafe, smiling maniacally at this little stunt she'd orchestrated?
Find someone else to bother. I'm busy right now.
More chat bubbles. Another text.
are you... you know...?
What followed were three emojis: a face with x's over its eyes, a water gun, and what Eve could only assume was meant to be a smirking face. Eve rolled her eyes. She did not make that face whenever she killed somebody.
Eve set her phone down beside the tray. She didn't have time for this. She reached for a champagne bottle when- god fucking dammit, now Oksana was trying to call her. Eve looked at the lit up screen, knowing she shouldn't pick up, knowing her assignment was too important for a leisurely phone call, knowing deep down this was the most exciting thing to happen to her all night...
Maybe Eve answered the phone because she was bored too.
"What do you want?" Eve said coldly.
"You picked up!"
Oksana's gleeful voice set Eve's nerves on edge. "You can't just call me out of nowhere like this."
"Why?" Oksana said. "Are you in the middle of KILLING PEOPLE-"
"Keep your voice down!" Eve hissed. Oksana's laughter trickled irritatingly through the phone. That little shit. Was she always this unpredictable? Eve made a mental note to get a new phone number. She'd make up some excuse if Niko asked why.
"How will you do it?" Oksana said.
Eve picked at a thread unraveling from her vest. "What?"
"How. Will. You do it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Eve knew exactly what she was talking about. In all fairness, the plan Eve had concocted was one of her more creative ones. It had involved her browsing for peanut oil on Amazon at three in the morning then getting distracted and buying dish towels too. Not that Oksana needed to know any of that.
"You don't have to play coy with me," Oksana purred. For the way she'd bolted out of Eve's house the last time they talked, Oksana was being remarkably friendly today. Almost... too friendly.
"Are you drunk?" Eve said.
Oksana descended into another fit of laughter. "So what if I am? I bet you never let yourself get drunk."
"Just so you know, I've been drunk before," Eve said.
"You? Pfft," Oksana said. "I don't buy it. You're not the kind of woman who cuts loose."
If Oksana had been in the pantry with her, Eve would have thrown a glass of champagne in her face. Not the kind of woman who cuts loose- Oksana didn't even know her! Although truthfully, Eve could count on one hand the number of times she'd been drunk. Lowered inhibitions and lack of impulse control didn't mix well with her work. That and... Eve liked to sing when she was drunk. It was a traumatic experience for everyone.
"Once you're done with the murder stuff, you should. You know, cut loose. Buy something expensive. Go some place you've never been before." Oksana sounded disconcertingly wistful. Almost nice. "I mean, I'm going to put you in the slammer, so you should enjoy life's simple pleasures while you still can."
And there was the dickhead who showed up at her apartment. "Sure you are, Oksana." On the other end of the line, Eve could have sworn she heard Oksana hum. "What?"
"Say it again."
"Say what?"
"My name, dingus."
Oksana had to be wasted. Because why would she ask Eve to say her name? Why ask for something so... sentimental of somebody like Eve? Would she even remember this conversation the next day? "Why do you want me to?"
"I shouldn't, I know. I shouldn't want to talk to you at all," Oksana said. She laughed again, but there was no joy in it. "I mean, what kind of person drunk dials a killer and enjoys it?"
Oksana enjoyed talking to her?
"I think there's something really wrong with me," Oksana said quietly.
Eve's grip tightened on the phone. "Don't do that."
"What?"
Later on a train, Eve would wonder why she decided to pick at this thread. Oksana was drunk and judging by the direction this conversation had taken, reaching that level of drunk where everything nosedived into melancholy. She'd probably pass out soon. Why bother trying to help her? But a long time ago, Eve had stared at herself in the mirror and thought I think there's something really wrong with me. Nobody had been there to tell her she was wrong. And being alone with thoughts like that was its own special brand of torture.
Oksana shouldn't have to go through the same thing.
"Listen to me," Eve said. "There is nothing wrong with you, Oksana. No more than what's wrong with everybody else anyways."
"What do you mean?"
"Just..." Eve pinched the bridge of her noise. This was really not a conversation Eve ever expected to have out loud with another person. "You wanna know the great big secret about people? Everyone's fucked up in their own special way. Everyone. Some people are just better at hiding it than others."
Oksana sighed. If Eve had a heart left to break, that sad little sigh could do it. "Sometimes I feel like I'm trying to be normal and everybody's just laughing at me behind my back," she said. "Like, 'Look, there goes Oksana! Isn't she cute trying to pretend she's one of us?'"
"You know what I say?" Eve's voice was razor sharp. "Fuck them."
And fuck anyone whoever made Oksana feel like whatever darkness existed inside of her was something to be ashamed of. Eve may not like Oksana, but she knew how it felt to have everyone look at her like she was a monster. People like Eve and Oksana so rarely received compassion when they so often needed it most-
"HEY!"
Oh, Eve had fucked up.
The portly catering manager stood in the doorway. Eve hung up, but the damage was already done. He'd caught her with her phone pressed to her ear, and for Eve the caterer, that could get her fired. The manager stalked forward and jabbed a meaty finger at Eve. "I don't pay you to talk on the phone!"
Eve bit back a swear. This was what she got for breaking her own rule. She had to be smart about this.
"I-I'm sorry!" Eve stammered in Russian. "It was my test results. I'm..." With the quiver of her lip, Eve placed one hand over her belly. The performance was worthy of a Bafta.
The catering manager's face went red with embarrassment. "Well... don't let it happen again!" he barked.
Eve nodded meekly and stuffed her phone back into her pocket. She was back in the reception hall with a full tray of champagne glasses in less than a minute. But the phone call with Oksana had left her fuming. Thanks to Oksana's impromptu phone call, she'd nearly been caught! It was sloppy and unprofessional. Oksana was like a yappy little dog nipping at Eve's ankles. What did it take to get her to leave Eve alone?
Eve had spent this entire reception thinking about Oksana.
Why?
No. Absolutely not, no. No. Eve was entertained by Oksana, nothing more. Besides, Eve didn't... get that way. It was more the feeling of... finding a kindred spirit. Eve couldn't exactly talk about her job with her husband. And Bill kept his distance, no matter how much Eve tried to get to know him. Now that Eve turned the idea over in her head, it sounded ridiculous. If Oksana knew the full extent of Eve's crimes, she'd turn her in. But what if she didn't? What if Eve bared the darkest parts of her soul to Oksana and instead of recoiling, she only came closer?
Eve was so lost in Oksana that she almost didn't spot her assignment ducking out of the reception hall. Eve swore and made a beeline for the exit.
She found Masha in front of the dumpsters, the one area where she wouldn't run into any guests and more importantly, the one area the video cameras couldn't see. A gentle rain fell, but it was slowing turning into a downpour. They were alone.
Eve planted herself a respectable distance next to Masha then enacted the second crucial part of her plan: pulling a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket.
As Eve lit her first cigarette (and fulfilled that pesky smoking habit she just couldn't shake), Masha fished for her own cigarette. See, Masha Sotnikova had a smoking problem. One that she didn't want her family to know about. In public, she kept no more than two cigarettes in her purse to prevent herself from chain smoking. Unfortunately for Masha, she was about to discover that those two cigarettes had been mysteriously crushed some time during the wedding.
All so Masha could turn to Eve like she was doing right now and ask, "Can I bum one off you?"
Normally, Eve would be elated. Her entire plan hinged on this one question being asked, and Masha Sotnikova had played into it perfectly. But Eve couldn't even muster up the slightest bit of excitement as she plucked another cigarette and held it out to Masha. She'd spent hours poring over little details like making her choice look as uninvested as possible, and now she wasn't even thinking about it. All because of her.
"Sure," Eve said with measured disinterest, but she didn't even have to try that hard. Masha didn't hesitate snatching the cigarette out of Eve's hand.
She reached for her lighter with a muttered, "Thanks." Now came the part where Masha did the one thing she'd been looking forward to all evening. This was the third crucial element of Eve's plan. Because Masha Sotnikova had not only a smoking problem, but also a peanut allergy. Just the slightest bit of exposure could trigger a reaction, and Masha would be dead in minutes. Unfortunately for Masha, the paper of that specific cigarette was coated in peanut oil. Once Masha took that first drag, Eve's job was done.
Only Masha's lighter wasn't working.
From her periphery, Eve watched Masha struggle again and again to light the cigarette. Maybe it was the rain, maybe it was the cold weather, or maybe it was the universe giving Eve the middle finger, but Masha finally gave up and stuffed the lighter back in her purse.
"Wanna borrow mine?" Eve offered.
"No, it must be a sign," Masha said. Eve's chest constricted. This was not part of the plan. Masha had to smoke the cigarette. It was the only way to ensure her death would look like an accident. Before Eve could even comprehend how bottoms up this plan was about to go, Masha crushed the cigarette under her foot. "I'm trying to quit anyways."
"You sure?" Eve's voice frantically pitched upward. "I have another if you want to-"
Masha waved her hand away. "No, no, I need to get back in anyway."
"Really, it's no bother. I have plenty-"
"I said I'm fine!" Masha snapped. She turned for the reception hall. Eve's mind raced to control the situation. She'd pushed too hard, and now she'd lost her window. She'd failed. There were too many witnesses for Eve to carry out the hit inside. Eve had one slip-up, one slip-up, and she'd be dealing with the blowback for months. The Twelve would give her shit jobs. Shit countries. And Eve would just have to take it until The Twelve decided she was competent again. And all because of Oksana, Oksana, Oksana-
Eve pulled out the gun hidden in her boot-
BANG!
-and planted a bullet straight in Masha's forehead.
Masha crumpled like paper. Eve stood frozen, the gun still pointed where Masha's head was only seconds ago. Why... why did she do that? The job had veered off the rails, sure, but... a bullet? To the head? What the fuck was Eve thinking?
Eve stepped back from the pool of blood seeping out of Masha's skull. Oh, this was bad. The levels of bad were stretching out before Eve like an accordion of bad. What were the positives here? There had to be something positive. Technically, Eve had completed the assignment. The rainfall helped conceal the sound of the gunshot. A quick scan of her surroundings showed they were the only ones out here. That about summed it up.
And the negatives?
Eve swallowed. She'd been given explicit orders to make this one look like an accident. She now needed to dispose of the gun before they traced the bullet back to her. The video cameras within the reception hall absolutely caught her leaving for the dumpsters-
Yeah. This was really, really bad.
Eve straightened. Put out her cigarette. Pulled the edges of her catering vest down. And calmly walked away from the reception hall.
A block away, Eve kicked the gun down the gutter. Two blocks later, she lifted an umbrella from a newspaper stand. Five blocks later, she ducked down into the metro. Riding down the escalator, Eve lit another cigarette then dialed Bill.
He picked up on the second ring. "Do you need me for another assignment within the next five days?" Eve said.
Immediately, Bill sounded suspicious. "Why?"
Eve needed to get herself far from St. Petersburg especially before somebody discovered the body. The authorities could even be searching for her right now- no. Now was not the time to think about that. Eve focused instead on the tasks she needed to complete. Book a train. Change her appearance. Remain very calm. But her blood boiled. If Oksana hadn't bothered her, she would have been focused tonight. In fact, ever since Oksana had barged her way into Eve's life, she'd brought nothing but complications. Eve disliked complications. She disliked Oksana for being so complicated.
Still, there was one good thing that came from their conversation.
Go some place you've never been before.
Well, Eve could think of one place.
"I'm going to Moscow."
"And why the sudden vacation?"
"I'm..." Eve took a contemplative drag of her cigarette. "...visiting a friend."
"You don't have any friends."
Bastard. Of course he'd know that.
"What is this really about?" Bill asked.
Why did he pick today of all days to ask so many damn questions? If it kept his focus away from St. Petersburg, Eve could at least be upfront. "Can you find me any information about an 'Anna' related to Oksana Astankova?"
"Eve."
"I know-"
"Eve."
"I'm just curious!"
A man going on the up escalator shot Eve a dirty look for smoking in the metro. Eve looked him dead in the eye and took another drag. "The London assignment is done," Bill said. "Leave the poor girl alone."
"Oh, so I'm not allowed to have hobbies?" Eve said.
"Stalking isn't a hobby."
Eve wanted to throw something. "Can you just do this for me? I never ask you for anything."
"Why are you even interested in her?" Bill said.
"Because..." Because she's the most interesting thing that's happened to me in ten years. Wait a minute, what was Eve doing? She wasn't a child. She didn't need her handler's permission to travel. Eve dropped any pretense of courtesy and snarled, "You know what? Forget I even asked. I'm going to Moscow."
"Eve-!"
She hung up and tossed her phone into a trash bin. She needed to get a new one anyways.
Oksana wanted to pry into her life? Fine. Eve was going to split her down the middle and gut her secrets out of her. Eve didn't care how long it took or how many people she had to eliminate. She wanted every skeleton in Oksana's overstuffed closet.
And so it was with the last drag of her cigarette that Eve booked a train to Moscow.