Page 38 of Breaking the Code

“What’s that mean?”

“I thought ye were a Scot?”

I sigh, then explain, “Follow me.”

He scoffs under his breath, but follows along behind me. When we get to my rooms, I close and lock the door.

“For someone who seems to have a position within the Society, why’re you in the basement?” he asks.

I look around my rooms. I like it down here. I feel safe here. I control who gets down here and no one else.

“I chose these rooms. I like it down here. Plus, the Order believes I’m dead and I like that, too,” I tell him.

I walk over to my stash of snacks. The last few days have been stressful, and snacking is how I cope. I pull out an energy drink, my favorite chips, and the sour gummy candies I love so much, and sit down at my desk. Draven leans against the wall behind me, so I swivel around.

I open the chips and candy, sticking my face into the bags. The smells fill my nose—the sour sweetness and salty potato are like a dose of calm. The chips are the super thick, extra crisp kind. They don’t have any weird flavors—just plain. I love them. I order them by the case, but when things are tough like they have been, I’m thankful that I have other ways of getting them.

Popping a chip into my mouth, I savor the thick, salty goodness as I set the candy to the side.

“I am Scottish, but the Order of the Death, or rather, Owen Black, forced my father and me to move to the States when I was six. We’d barely laid my mother in the ground before we were forced on a plane. They didn’t want me, but I was good leverage to keep my father in line. At least in the beginning.”

“So that’s why ye and yer da came to be here. Why you’ve lost the brogue and your heritage?”

I shove more chips in my mouth, sucking the salt from them as I contemplate how much to trust him. When the salt is gone, I chew and swallow them so I can answer him.

“Yes, I lost the brogue and the language, but what I’m going to tell you, no one here knows, so I’m trusting you to not betray me,” I caution.

His face is stoic and stoney. But even that impenetrable facade can’t distract from how gorgeous the man is. His face is chiseled and hard, but when it crumbles…that’s when you realize just how beautiful he really can be. I remember seeing some photos of him as a teenager. They’d been taken before my father murdered his family and stole his sister. He was a happy, smiling kid. Big as hell, but it was like the sun lived within him. All that changed with the death of his family, but the big change came when Simon died. What little light left after his family passed, what little light Simon helped him rediscover, flickered out when Simon left this earth.

His arms, which are crossed over his chest, drop, and his hands slide into his pants pockets before he says, “Agreed.”

“Everyone thought Owen brought me to the Order for leverage against my father. That is not the case. He brought me to the States because my mother’s will left everything to me. I’ve been working to put the Order to death because on my twenty-fifth birthday, my mother’s estate comes to me fully. So, I didn’t lose my heritage, it was only put away for safekeeping. So you see, I was not brought as leverage against my father. On the contrary, my father was only allowed to live so he could care for me,” I explained.

He stares at me. His gaze unfocused. As I watch him process the things I said, I could almost see the cogs spinning inside his head.

“What happened after your father died?” he asks.

It’s my turn to stare. My hands go numb. Cold seeps up my body from the ground until I’m close to shivering. I try to keep that shit out of my head. He can’t possibly know what sort of life I’ve lived since Da died.

“A nightmare of a story for a different day,” I say.

He watches me for a moment, then nods, pulling out the comms device I gave him after he swore fealty to Everly.

“What the fuck is this for?” he asks.

I chuckle. “It’s a phone. It’s for communicating.”

“Dinnae be a smart ass, ghille.”

“Ghille? What’s that mean?”

“Boy. Now tell me what this thing is for,” he demands.

“I wasn’t being a smart ass,” I say, but as the quit bullshitting me look settles on his face, I continue. “Okay. I was, but not completely. It is a phone, and it is a communication device, but it’s been customized for the Society. We have a secure network, and we only communicate on the network or about Society business with those devices,” I explain.

He nods and slides his back into his pocket. “So, what do I do now?” he asks.

“Like Damon said, you’re going to disappear from your life before today.”

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