Page 26 of Breaking the Code

Are they members?

If so, why are they lurking about, spying on the manor from the trees if they can just walk right in?

What about the girl? Where is she?

Those last two plague me the most. Women arenae members. They are chattel. Merchandise to be bought, sold, and traded. Granted, some o’ the members are married, but the ones who are treat their wives and daughters nae much better than the women they traffic.

Could she be Owen’s stepdaughter?

It’s too dark, and she’s too far away for me to get a good look. There are rumors she has been in hiding, having fled Owen’s house after her mother passed to escape the man’s clutches. But then why is she here, iffn it is she? She has to know the members o’ the Order are loyal to the man and iffn he’s searching for her, and they catch her, they will hand her over to him.

I stand here, still waiting and watching, mulling over what could be happening, when the front door opens and the two o’ the three guys walk out. And to my surprise, the girl is with them. They get in the car and drive away.

Now I’m even more confused.

Where’s the other guy?

Why did they leave the third guy behind?

How did the girl get into the building? I didn’t see her with them when they first arrived.

It disnae take long for the guy who drove away from the house to appear in the tree line again. They are all still standing there, watching the house.

What the fuck are they waiting for?

Nearly an hour later, I get my answer.

Two figures shrouded in black emerge from the side o' the mansion. Bent over, racing toward the trees where the others stand. I watch them until they disappear into the trees, but instead o’ leaving, the group stays put looking back at the mansion.

Another what the fuck filters through my head. I look back at the house just as all the sounds in the world disappear. It feels as if someone has sucked in all the sounds in the world, like taking a deep breath and holding it.

I’m knocked off my feet as the sound detonates, blasting out o' the house, carrying stone and glass with it. I roll to my stomach, pulling my chin to my chest and covering my head with my arms. The debris showers down over me, pummeling my body where it lies on the ground.

Sucking in a breath when the hailstorm ends, I stand, groaning in pain. The trees block some o’ the carnage, but nae all o’ it. I stumble towards the tree I’d been hiding behind before the blast, and I push my weight against it.

In the clearing where the headquarters o’ the Order o’ Death stands decimated, are the people who’d also been spying on the house. They’ve walked out o' the trees and the glow o’ the fire from the explosion lights up their faces.

Shock and awe blast through me just as the explosion did minutes ago. There stand four men I’ve photographed over the last few months coming and going from the Order, but their presence isnae what surprises me. It’s the girl and boy standing with them.

Tears bathe their faces, with the light glistening off the wetness like diamonds. Contrary to the tears, their mouths arenae sad or depressed. Nae, their mouths stretch wide, wreathed in happiness, the emotion is so evident it’s almost palpable, even from a distance.

Fucking hell!

I stand there, thoughts and possibilities swirling, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. The group in the clearing watching the building burn blew it up. I have no doubt. But I also have no clue why.

Some o’ the group move away, back through the trees, leaving two guys behind. Although the smaller guy’s face is blocked, he appears familiar to me. The bigger guy moves to stand in front o' the smaller guy and that’s when it hits me.

It’s the boy from the warehouse. The boy from the warehouse stirs something inside me that I have nae felt since Simon was taken from me, and I cannae fathom why. Looking at him now, safe and away from the clutches o' that foppish prick Samuel Nicholson, I sag against the tree. Gratitude that he is alive and seeming well comes at me from some unknown place.

Shaking my head at the ridiculousness o’ my fascination with the guy, I try to come up with a plan now that the only one I had just blew up in front o’ my eyes.

CHAPTER EIGHT

TAVISH

Six months ago - Age 24

“Let’s go, kid,” a rough voice says. “This place is set to blow.”

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