The phone buzzed on the side table, cutting through the quiet like an alarm I didn't want to hear. I groaned and cracked my eyes open. The dim ceiling of the brothel room stared back at me—white polished paint, dim lights stuck at the walls, and that familiar smell of perfume, saliva and sheets.
Lara was still fast asleep, her naked body warm and heavy against my chest. Her breathing was soft and steady, one arm draped over me like she never wanted to let go. I didn't want to wake her. Slowly, I reached sideways, stretching my arm without moving too much, and grabbed the phone.
Unknown number. No name on the screen.
I swiped to answer and pressed it to my ear. "Hello?"
A calm woman's voice came through. "Hello, this is the nurse from Central Hospital. Am I speaking to Mr. Ezra?"
My heart slammed against my ribs. I sat up so fast that Lara's head slipped off my chest. "Yes, it's me," I said, voice already rough with worry. "Is this about Aeri? Is she okay?"
