THE CONTRACT (The Chosen Series #2)

CHECKMATE

Upon waking, the delightful scent of freshly brewed coffee permeates my senses. Shifting, I wince at the aches in my body, nerve endings still tingling from the remnants of the previous night.

"Welcome back," Alexei's second-in-command, Damir, echoes through the room with his refined and smooth voice as I open one of my sleep-crusted eyes.

"I was instructed to you food," Damir announces. I squint, my vision adjusting to the glare of the sun, and observe as he places a silver tray on the now-empty side of Alexei's bed. Shifting tentatively, my body groaning with pain, I take in the selection before me: cold meats, cheeses, pastries, fresh fruit, coffee, and in the center, resting neatly on a matching silver dish, I sigh with relief when I see several small white pills.

"For the tremors," Damir offers, placing a glass of water on the side table and smirking as he watches me struggle to sit up. "Take two before your meal and two when you are finished."

"Thank you," I express, attempting a smile that ends up more as a grimace. Damir moves to the bedside without hesitation, his large hands supporting my shoulders as he helps me sit up.

Acknowledging my gratitude with a nod, unfazed by his actions, I observe his presence. Damir is clad in his customary black suit, towering over 6ft with broad shoulders and midnight-black hair slicked back, highlighting his striking features. He's been by Alexei's side for as long as I've known him. Despite his youthful appearance, resembling a man in his early 30s, I'm aware that he's more than double my age. Cracking my neck, I feel grateful for Damir's presence. A man of few words, his silent demeanor and attention to detail have proven invaluable.

Taking two pills, I place them in my mouth and wash them down with water, my throat screaming with pain as I swallow. "It should only take a few moments before you feel their effects. I will leave you to your meal. Your personal belongings are in the top drawer of the bedside table," he concludes, nodding once before turning on his polished heels and exiting the room.

Leaning back on the pillows, I take a deep breath and count backward from 100, praying for the drugs to kick in. At the 50-second mark, I sigh as the numbness trickles in, starting at my toes and slowly making its way northward. The headache recedes, and I reach for a slice of melon, placing it in my mouth and savoring the sweet juices as I swallow.

Midway through my meal, a bit of strength returns, and I reach for my phone in the drawer. Switching it on, I realize it's past noon, and Ava has tried to call multiple times. Groaning, my gut churns with fear as I prepare to tap the screen, but before I can, Ava's name appears as an incoming call. I accept it immediately, "Ava, are you okay?" I ask, cringing at the crackle in my voice as I await her response.

"What's going on, Erin?" Ava responds, her typically gentle tone replaced by a corporate assertiveness. "And don't bullshit me," she continues, a strange coldness seeping through her words, "something's not right."

Shit! What does she know? Panic begins to form in my core, causing my heart to race. Coupled with the events from the previous evening, I lose control, and a quiet sob escapes, the noise piercing the silence as she waits for my response.

"Erin, babe, tell me what's going on?

Despite her softened tone, I'm lost for words. "I," my voice almost breaks as the pain in my throat threatens to return. "I, Ava, it's so fucking complicated," I begin, my mind struggling to articulate the words she seeks, my truth. "I thought I'd have more time, more time to explain, but..." I trail off, still grappling with what to say.

Ava implores, her concern overshadowing any hint of anger. I dig my nails into my palm, wrestling with guilt. There have been numerous times when I wished to share my pain with her. Yet, I agreed with Alexei that if I wanted to maintain a friendship with her, certain aspects must remain concealed. Now, his request is prompting me to question his motives, especially since he knew about Ava's heritage. "You're not making sense. Does this have to do with the Petrovs?" Before I can respond, she adds, her words almost a whisper, "or Liam?"