Page 37 of Breaking the Code

Clenching my jaw, I look back to the asshole who fired a shot into the head o’ the person lying dead on the ground a few feet away just as he asks, “Anyone else care to end it all?”

Nae a single soul dares to move. Like stone statues, everyone freezes in place, hesitating to even take a breath.

“Very well. You may enter and join our ranks,” the man says, heading toward the only door in the room other than the elevator.

Tavish skirts the woman lying dead on the floor. He heads into the room where our clusterfuck o’ an introduction to the Society was held in front o’. The line o’ people who were smart enough to keep their yap shut turn to follow him. Each o’ us step over the bloody corpse. Her lifeless eyes stare up at us as we do so.

As the last in line, I am the last to enter the room. I watch the man wielding the gun and spouting shit as he walks ahead o’ me. He seems to be an enforcer o’ sorts. When he enters the room, I notice he takes a spot next to a small woman and two other men.

My head pivots to the boy—to Tavish—and back to the four standing together.

And that’s when it hits me.

They may nae be my enemy. They may be my way to Maeve.

Because they are the ones from the clearing. I’m certain o’ it.

They are the ones who watched as the Order o’ Death exploded in a fiery ball o’ destruction, raining debris down around us.

Now I know why my body and mind were at such odds outside. The kid’s nae a target. He’s someone I need to protect, to care for.

As I study him while I wait my turn, I catalog his appearance and interactions with the others in the room. He’s definitely o’ the squeamish sort. He gulps and swallows any time his gaze lands on the tattoo artist. Since I already witnessed his aversion to blood, it’s nae stretch o’ the imagination to say the needles might also be an issue.

The process o’ joining this macabre group seems to include some mutilation. Some o’ those who stood in line with me are having something burned off their bodies, while others are only being tattooed. I’ve an abundance o’ tattoos, but I’ve nae desire to be branded, so I’m happy I’m nae shuttled into that line.

I glance back at Tavish. It seems he’s part o’ the Society’s leadership, holding a position o’ trust o’ some sort. The guy in front o’ him is giving him some issues, but Tavish holds his own with the man.

I let my eyes travel over his face. He’s fucking beautiful. As I watch him catalog the newcomers, I realize he looks a wee bit like Simon. I cannae put my finger on what it is, though.

It’s nae his size. Simon was a big man in relation to most. I still overshadowed him in both height and width, and I dwarf Tavish. He’s a wee man compared to me. Pressing him against the wall and pulling him up on his toes still didn’t bring him to my shoulders. So it’s definitely nae his size, and it’s nae their structure because Tavish is slim and sculpted, whereas Simon was thick and muscular.

Tavish must feel my gaze because his eyes meet mine. His cheeks redden and he tilts his chin down to hide his reaction. But I can see his mouth twitch. He glances back up at me and that’s when I realize what it is.

It’s the eyes. They’re almost the exact same shape and color. The deep dark brown makes them look like onyx on a moonless night, only catching the light when it hits them just so.

But there’s something else in Tavish’s eyes. Something I used to see in Simon’s. Not the emotion but recognition and acceptance I always found in Simon seemed to be there in Tavish’s gaze. As if it was Simon looking out at me from within Tavish.

I shake my head at the ridiculousness o’ my thoughts. Simon is dead and it disnae matter that this kid’s eyes gaze at me with appreciation. He’s nae Simon and he never will be.

I sit for my tattoo. The artist seems to know what he’s doing, but he also seems distracted by two others in the room. I’m nae sure what that’s all about, but whatever it is, it’s not my concern unless he makes it so.

When all is said and done, I’ve been inked, poked, pricked, and scanned. I’m holding the communication device in my hand that Tavish gave to me. I’m nae sure what all it does. Tavish gave me brief instructions on how to use the communication device to access the Society’s secure info and receive jobs.

I’ll figure it out later. Right now I have questions and Tavish said he’d give me the answers I seek depending on the choice I made. Well, I made the choice that kept me alive. Now he needs to stick to his promise.

CHAPTER TWELVE

TAVISH

As everyone filters out of the ceremony, going their own ways, my eyes stay glued to Draven. I wait and watch. As does he.

When the room is empty, Draven says, “I have questions.”

I nod, turn, and walk out of the room. This room is not secure enough for me to speak with him.

“Crivvens,” he says harshly.

I stop, gasping at the word. I turn to him, the sound of the word echoing through my mind.

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