The Contract

Seventy-two Hours

{ELARAS POV}

"Your brother owes us fifty thousand dollars, Miss Santos."I kept the phone pressed to my ear, waiting for the punchline. "I’m sorry, who is this?""Fifty. Thousand. Dollars," the man repeated, completely flat. "He took out a hard money loan six months ago. He’s missed three payments, he’s dodging our calls, and we’re done waiting."I slowly leaned back against the corridor wall, the cold plaster cutting through the thin fabric of my scrubs. "You have the wrong number. My brother doesn't have that kind of credit. He doesn't even have a car.""We aren't a bank, Elara. He took the cash, he spent it, and now he can't pay. Which means it’s your problem.""My problem?" A sudden rush of heat hit my face. "I didn't sign anything. I don't care what he did, I'm not responsible for his debts.""You are now. Family is family. In our world, when the debtor defaults, it goes to the next of kin. That's you.""That’s illegal. You can’t just make up rules"The man let out a dry, raspy laugh that made my skin crawl. "Illegal? You think I’m worried about a judge? Your brother knew exactly who we were when he took the money. Now someone has to pay. If it's not him, it's you."My head started to throb. Fifty grand. Matteo had gone to loan sharks. While I was pulling double shifts, counting pennies for rent, and living off vending machine coffee, he was out messing with criminals."I don't have that kind of money," I whispered, stepping further into the empty supply alcove so the passing doctors wouldn't hear me. "I’m an ER nurse. I barely cover our rent. I couldn't give you fifty thousand dollars if I sold everything I owned.""Then you’d better start figuring something out. Fast," he said. "You have seventy-two hours before the interest doubles. And if we still don't see any movement... let’s just say your brother won’t be the only one in trouble."The line went dead.I stood there staring at the screen, my heart hammering against my ribs. Fifty thousand. It was impossible.I immediately pulled up Matteo's contact and hit call. It rang through to his voicemail. I hung up, dialed again, and got the same thing."Pick up," I muttered, slamming my thumb against the screen. "Pick up the damn phone, Matteo."Nothing. He was probably still sulking because of our fight this morning, ignoring my calls on purpose to punish me. But we didn't have time for his silent treatment anymore.I shoved the phone into my pocket and forced myself through the remaining three hours of my shift, but I was completely checked out. Every chart I checked, every vitals sign I took, all I could see was that seventy-two hour clock ticking down.The second my relief arrived, I grabbed my bag and bolted for the exit, not even bothering to change out of my scrubs.I called him seven times on the bus ride home. Every single one went straight to voicemail. By the time I reached our building, the panic had curdled into pure, unadulterated rage.I threw the apartment door open, expecting to find him sitting on the couch looking stubborn. But the place was pitch black. The air felt heavy and cold, exactly how he’d left it.I dropped my bag on the kitchen counter and dialed one more time. On the third ring, the line finally clicked open."What?" his voice snapped, instantly defensive."Are you losing your mind?" I shouted, not even trying to keep my voice down. "I’ve been calling you for hours!""I saw. I was busy.""Busy doing what? Hiding from the people who are threatening to come to my job?"The line went dead silent."Yeah," I said, my voice shaking with fury. "I got a call today, Matteo. From a loan shark. He says you owe them fifty thousand dollars. Care to tell me what the hell you did with fifty grand?""Elara, look, I""Don't lie to me! Don't you dare try to excuse this! What were you thinking?""I had a plan to pay it back!" he fired back, his voice cracking. "I just needed a little more time""They gave us seventy-two hours, Matteo! They're threatening me!""I’m handling it!""How? By running away? That’s not handling it, that’s getting us killed!""You don't understand""Then explain it to me!" I was pacing the small living room now, tears of frustration blurring my vision. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you ruined your life and now you're letting me take the fall.""I didn't mean for it to get this bad," he mumbled, his voice suddenly dropping into that small, guilty tone he used whenever he realized he couldn't fix his own mess. "I thought I could win it back. I was so close last weekend, Elara. I just needed one more good hand"I stopped dead in the middle of the room. "One more hand? This was for gambling? You went to criminals to fund a poker habit?""I was going to pay it back! I swear, I had it all figured out""Nothing about this is figured out!" I wiped a tear off my cheek, my blood running entirely cold. "Do you have any idea what you've done to us?""I know, okay? I know I messed up! But I'm going to fix it, I just need""Need what? Another chance to throw our lives away?" My voice broke. "I gave up everything for you, Matteo. I work myself to death to keep this place, and this is how you repay me?""I never asked you to!" his guilt flipped right back into anger. "I never asked you to play the martyr and take care of me!""You didn't have to ask, you're my brother! What was I supposed to do, let you end up on the streets?""Maybe that would've been better than you holding it over my head every single second!""Holding it over your head? Matteo, this is a disaster"I froze. In the background of the call, past his heavy breathing, I heard a sharp, muffled scuffle. The sound of footsteps on loose gravel. Voices."Matteo?" The anger vanished, replaced by an instant, icy dread. "Where are you?""I'm fine.""Where are you, Matteo?""Look, I gotta go. We'll figure it out later, I promise"Suddenly, his voice muffled, like the phone had been shoved away from his face. "Hey, let go of me!""Matteo?" I gripped the phone with both hands, leaning over the counter. "Matteo, what’s happening?"There was a loud, chaotic rustling through the speaker. Someone cursed, a deep, unfamiliar voice."Matteo! Answer me!"A heavy grunt of pain cut through the noise, followed by the sharp sound of something hitting concrete. Then, the call cut to a flat, empty dial tone."Matteo!" I screamed at the dead screen. "Matteo!"Nothing.My hands shook so violently I could barely hit redial. It rang once, then went straight to voicemail. I tried again. And again. Ten times, fifteen times, dialing the numbers until the tears made it impossible to see the buttons."Please pick up. Just pick up."Nothing but the automated recording.My legs gave out and I dropped onto the edge of the couch, burying my face in my hands. The tears came heavy and violent, choking me.They had him. Those people from the phone call, they’d already found him. And I was sitting alone in a dark apartment, with twelve dollars in my bank account and absolutely no way to find him.