THE CONTRACT (The Chosen Series #2)

EVEN DOVES CRY

PRESENT

"Our father, as in the walking penis that provided the sperm to create all this awesomeness?" I throw the last part out to mask my shock at his declaration. This can't be happening. I haven't been searching for my family all this time, for them to be right under my nose. Literally!

"Yes, our отец," Isla confirms, her dark eyes sparkling at my pathetic attempt at humor.

Our father, fuck! Thank God for Alexei making me learn basic Russian. Hold on. "Was our father Russian?" Little pieces of the puzzle starting to form in my mind as I watch them.

"Yes," Griffin grunts, his brow creasing. "Viktor was Russian."

"Was?" Please, no. If my parents are dead, then...

Looking sheepish, both Isla and Griffin nod, "he wasn't a good man in the end."

Remembering Ava's story about Griffin's... Oh, God! Raising my eyes to meet Ava's, I wait as dread seeps in.

Like a punch to the gut, I watch as she nods, a mixture of sympathy and regret filling her chocolate orbs, reflecting my emotions. "Please don't tell me," I murmur, shaking my head, my eyes starting to sting at the recollection of her words, of what that man did to them, to me.

"I'm so sorry, babe," Ava offers, positioning herself where Isla previously sat and wrapping her arms around my back for comfort, pulling me close.

"Why don't I remember?" I ask, my gaze unfocused, tears threatening to surface. Come on, pull it together. I'm strong. I'm resilient. I'm fire. I silently repeat the mantra I've clung to since my early days in training, a shield against revealing any weakness.

"When we were separated, Ciara," Griffin begins, his expression pained. He gently squeezes my hand, seeking reassurance. "Viktor ensured you wouldn't recall your time at the Under. Your time with him. With us," he pauses, seeking support from Isla.

"He engaged a Cailleach," Griffin adds, glancing at Isla for confirmation. Sensing my unease with physical contact, she withdraws her hand from mine and resettles herself on the other side of Ava, giving me some space to process.

"Oh, I know this one," Ava chimes in, her voice lowered as if sharing a secret. "It means witch," she explains, adopting a conspiratorial tone.

I turn to face her, raising an eyebrow in apparent ignorance. Despite my familiarity with witches and their abilities, I decide to play with Ava, using the opportunity to maintain composure.

"Cailleach is Gaelic for witch," Ava continues, tapping her temple with her index finger. "They're said to possess mind magic that can block memories." Keeping my expression neutral, I watch Ava attempt to explain, her seriousness apparent. "Erin, you know, like magical people?"

"Like Hermione Granger, with a wand and a sorting hat?" I ask, widening my eyes and feigning amazement. As Ava looks to the others for confirmation, her uncertainty obvious, I can't resist teasing. "I'm just messing with you," I chuckle, thankful for the distraction that allowed me to regain control.

"I've met a couple of them during Petrov events. Sadly, no wands involved, so no Hogwarts for us," I explain with a smirk, recalling my encounters with Cailleachs.

"Bitch," Ava playfully shoves me before pulling me back into a hug, her concern evident. "You sure you're okay? I'd be spinning if I were you."

Snuggling into her embrace, I inhale her familar scent. "Well, there's no use crying over spilled milk."

"Erin, we're not talking about spilled milk. We're talking about your parents," Ava points out, causing me to shrug.

"You know me. I'm Superwoman."