Page 39 of Breaking the Code

He shakes his head. “I cannae do that. I have people who are counting on me for their support. I have an estate to run.”

“And a sister to find,” I deadpan.

“What do you know about my sister?” he demands, advancing on me. His face morphing from curiosity to feral in an instant.

“Her name is Maeve Helvig, and my father stole her out of the wreckage that killed your parents before he replaced her with someone else and set fire to their car. He sold Maeve to a brothel owner to keep Owen Black happy. She has been in the brothel owner’s stable of talent since then.”

He jerks me out of my chair by my shoulders and slams me against the wall. My head crashes into the wall with so much force that sickness washes through me, forcing me to swallow to keep from spewing on the gorgeous bastard.

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know. I’m still looking for her. The brothel owner has girls all over the world. He bounces them around. They all do. That’s my job here. To find the people responsible and send someone out to rid the world of the bastards. It’s why I enticed you here. To give you some anonymity and protection. I found you on the dark web looking for Maeve. You hadn’t covered your tracks at all. If I wanted, I could’ve walked up to the front door of your manor house and knocked.”

“I won’t stop looking for her,” he vowed.

“I don’t expect you to. I told you. That’s why I brought you here. To help you.”

I don’t mention her age. She’s on the older side for a person in her position. We will be lucky if she’s still alive.

Before I can go into further detail, my comms unit vibrates in my pocket. Most of the members call it a phone, and that pisses me off. No phone does what I designed these things to do. Granted, all the tech is there, which is why it was so easy for me to hack and redesign, but still yet. It’s not a freaking phone, dammit.

Everly’s name appears on the screen, and I swear under my breath.

“Tavish?” she asks as soon as the call connects.

“I’m a bit busy at the moment, Everly,” I tell her.

“Yes, I know you’re busy, but I need you for something.”

My eyes lock onto Draven’s as I contemplate telling her no, but then I remember that she and her men saved me. They pulled me out of a life of slavery and abuse and gave me a place in this new Society. One I’ve helped build and am an integral part of.

“What do you need?”

Everly rattles off the information I need to find Zayn, and I grimace. I don’t know why she’s so freaking worked up about him leaving headquarters, but whatever. I settle behind my computer, tapping at the keys to bring it to life. Within a minute or two, I have the information for her. She hangs up without another word, and I toss my device on the desk.

“Are ye always at their beck and call?”

I glance up at Draven, and while I don’t see it that way, I can see why he does. “Yes, and no. She only calls when she needs something. Most of the requests aren’t time-sensitive like that one. Those go through the network.”

He nods. “So I’ve been “invited” into the Society o’ Ghosts, and now I must disappear from my former life. What am I to do about my people and estate?”

“You set things up so that it looks like you’re on an extended vacation. You’re already living in the country under an alias, so we will continue with that for now.”

“Okay. What’s next?”

“You’ll do what you’ve been doing. Looking for your sister. Only now, you’ll have someone that can help you search. I’ll send you links to jobs through your comms unit; you’ll carry them out based on the information in the contract I send you. Then you’ll get paid for completing the job.”

“What kind o’ jobs are ye talking about?”

“Contract killings.”

“I’m nae a murderer,” Draven protests.

“You are now. Well, in a way. Murderer isn’t quite the right term. Assassin is more fitting.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DRAVEN

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