Page 13 of Breaking the Code

I should feel guilty for throwing the guy under the bus, but I don’t. It’s him or me, and I’m not going down without a fight.

“What footprints?” Owen asks. There’s no mirth in his tone when he speaks this time.

I wet my lips. Saying what I have against the guy is bad enough, but Owen wants details. If I want to live, I’ll have to give them to him. Even though this is the plan he and I worked out together, I feel like a rat.

Forgive me, Mum.

“The raid on the warehouse last month. The FBI traced his activity online. They don’t know who he is or who he works for, but they know what he’s been doing.”

Owen Black’s face turns murderous. It’s not the first time I’ve seen him look like that, but I know this wound I’m poking still festers. I’ve heard the ranting he’s done. I’ve also heard the screams that echo through the manor during the violent and bloody interrogations that have taken place over the last month.

The crystal glass shatters against the window next to my head. Shards pierce my skin, cutting me. I’d be surprised the window didn’t shatter if I didn’t already know the car was bulletproof. Owen has remained in power for a very long time because he’s cautious, bordering on paranoia.

“Find Cato!”

My head snaps back to him. Owen’s phone is pressed to his ear. I’m not sure who he’s talking to, but I’m damn glad I was able to get that message off to Cato.

He pockets his phone and glares at me. “How do you know?”

“The student has surpassed the teacher,” I say.

The flat, emotional stare narrows, and his jaw pops. “He’s been teaching you? Giving you access to Order dealings?”

This is the part of all this that makes me nervous. He could kill me on the spot and never blink an eye over it. Just as I am certain he killed my father and Andrew. Or rather had them killed. Owen rarely does wet work.

“Yes.”

“And you think you can do better?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll see about that.”

I sigh, and he laughs. His mouth twisted into a sinister smirk.

“Don’t be too pleased with yourself. That virgin ass of yours is still up for grabs.”

CHAPTER FOUR

TAVISH

Two years ago - Age 23

“Get dressed.”

Clothes smack me in the back of the head, falling around me. I want to rage. Tears threaten, but I push them down. I won’t give him the satisfaction. I haven’t willingly let him see me cry since I realized he got off on my tears.

I look over my shoulder when I have my emotions reined in. Samuel stands in the doorway—his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. His jet-black hair, slicked back, highlights his prominent cheekbones and hawklike nose. His smarmy look disgusts me. I thought I would get used to the choice I made, but it’s been…five years today, I realize, glancing at the clock.

How did I let the date slip up on me?

Seven years.

Eighty-four months.

Two thousand five hundred fifty-six days.

And more minutes and seconds that I’ve lost count.

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