THE CLAIMING (The Chosen Series #1)

ERIN

The blaring alarm jolts me awake, and here I am, back in bed, completely bare. Recently, camping in my backyard has become a ritual. It started just over a week ago when, struggling with insomnia, I found solace under the open sky. The moon's gentle glow felt more welcoming than the confines of my room. That night, wrapped in a blanket, I lay down, and the next thing I knew, I woke up back in bed, clueless about how I got there. Sleepwalking?

Feeling bloated and with my back still sore, I immerse myself in the shower. The hot steam works wonders on my aching muscles. My thoughts still racing, I reluctantly leave the haven of hot water, towel off, and tie my long hair into a high ponytail. I pull on a pair of blue jeans, the denim hugging my legs comfortably. I then slip into a loose cream sweater and shrug on my black leather jacket, enjoying its familiar weight. After applying a touch of makeup, I grab my bag and head out to meet Erin for breakfast.

Our go-to spot is the Tin Cup, an eclectic café Erin suggested. Known for its practically famous coffee and pastries, it's tucked away on the other side of a nature reserve, just a short walk from my place.

Outside, the weather is perfect—65°F. Sunlight filters through the hawthorn and willow oak trees, while the air carries the invigorating scent of fresh mulch and pine. Pausing in my walk, I close my eyes and inhale. Pine—my thoughts are interrupted by a snap to my left. A glimpse of black catches my eye.

Disregarding the trail, curiosity getting the better of me, I follow the lingering scent of pine deeper into the trees. I know I'm acting crazy, but I can't shake this feeling of familiarity as I distance myself from the trail and head toward... something?

Crackling twigs and rustling leaves startle me, and my heart rate quickens. I pause, turning in a half-circle, and notice movement near what seems to be a cave entrance on my far right.

Just as I'm about to investigate, my phone rings. Pulling it from my bag I answer on the second ring. "Hello."

"Morning, Chicca! How far are you? Should I order?" Erin's voice diverts my attention.

I check my watch and turn back to the trail. Coffee waits for no one. "I'll be there in 10, order my usual. Did you get our spot?"

"Absolutely! Gerald's got us covered. He knows how to look after his girls," Erin chuckles, Gerald's voice in the background hinting that I should hurry if I want my coffee hot.

Leaving the reserve, I dodge the traffic and run across the road to the corner café. A bell chimes overhead as I push the door open, and the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee instantly envelops me. The café's facade, adorned with mismatched vintage signs and vibrant potted plants, hints at the unique character inside. I wave to Gerald, who's smiling behind the coffee machine, and give Erin a hug before settling onto the powder blue velvet couch. A cappuccino and an almond croissant await me on the table. Grinning and feeling more like myself than I have in weeks, I take hold of the large mug and sip the steaming brew. A contented sigh escapes me. Coffee—the ultimate elixir of life.

"Ava, ya dead?" Erin quips in her best Jamaican accent, taking her place beside me, playfully bumping her shoulder against mine.

I swallow, and clear my throat, joining Erin in our favorite movie quote banter. "Yeh, man."

Erin laughs and I rest my head against the plush cushion and sigh.

"Tough night?" Erin asks between bites of her bagel, tucking her denim-clad legs under her.

"Mmm," I mumble, sitting up for another sip of coffee.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Mmm."