Page 64 of Breaking the Code

Sighing, I bring the computer to life and check the searches I have running. Seeing the notification that pinged earlier, I click it, and dread races through me. The screen in front of me terrifies me like I’ve not been terrified since Damon and I crept through the Order’s headquarters the night he rescued me.

My fingers fly over the keyboard as everything fades into the background. I lose myself in the code. I have to pull out all the information I can to keep myself and the others safe. I haven’t come this far to be pulled back into the mess I escaped from.

Looking back at the screen, the name in front of me isn’t quite my worst nightmare, but it’s close.

Elijah Monroe

A plate lands in front of me. I ignore it for the data I’m compiling, but a hand grasps the back of my neck. I sigh and tilt my head back to look up at the big bastard I’m falling for. Stupidly so.

“Eat.”

Turning to the screens, I chew my lip and pick up the fork. I shove bite after bite into my mouth as my brain spins. I need to figure out what to do about this info. If Elijah Monroe is making himself known, he has help. Help that is my worst nightmare.

He and Samuel are thick as thieves, always have been. If Elijah is making a play, then Samuel is right there with him.

I swallow. The food I’m chewing refuses to go down, getting stuck as my throat closes. All the memories of the living nightmare my life was for the past twenty years flood through me, drowning me in misery. The fork drops from my hand as all the fear and abuse I’ve endured washes over me.

“Tavish? What’s wrong?”

I shake my head

“Tell me, mo ghille donn. What’s the matter?”

Shaking my head again, I reach for the comms device. “I…ummm…I gotta…I need to talk with Zayn.”

“What about? What’s wrong?” he asks once more.

The emotion in his voice sparks hope within me. Hope I can’t afford to allow myself, so I wave him off, ignoring the look on his face as I pull up Zayn’s contact.

Glancing up at the screen, I type out the message to Zayn.

SECURE: T

We’ve gotta talk. NOW!

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

DRAVEN

Patience isnae my strong suit, but I hold my tongue. The fact he’s messaging Zayn to confide in when I’m standing right beside him pisses me off.

He’s my boy!

The thought crosses my head without permission. The truth o’ it is like a spotlight flashing at me, branding me as his and him as mine. As much as I want it to be true, I cannae allow it to be so. He’s nae for me. He deserves someone who’s nae broken, who disnae have the baggage I cart around with me.

“Tavish, what is going on?”

His head twists on his neck as he refuses to answer my question yet again.

“Just tell me, lilla du. Let me help you.”

This time, he blatantly ignores me in favor o’ his screens and keyboard. The clacking o’ the keys grates on my nerves and I’m seconds from yanking his delicious ass out o’ his chair and taking my belt to him. I rein myself in and just keep poking at him for information.

I’m still trying to pry details out o’ Tavish when Zayn and his partners walk into the room. They’ve all been staying here at headquarters because o’ some sort o’ threat Tavish refused to elaborate on. All I was told was Zayn and his partners were here because o’ an attempt on their lives.

Tavish’s face lights up at the sight o’ the man, and he jumps to greet him. The movement makes the possessive arse that dwells within surge forward at the delight on my boy’s face.

He’s mine!

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