Page 40 of Breaking the Code

Months have passed since the night Societas Exspiravit inducted me into their ranks, and I began my career as an assassin. Tavish has kept his promise to help me search for my sister. We’ve nae found any trace o’ who purchased her all those years ago, but we’ve rescued some who say they recognize her, but it was years ago.

The connection I felt to the boy in that warehouse all those years ago has only grown stronger over the months since I shoved him against the stone walls o’ the building above us. Whenever I find myself at headquarters, I always end up here, nae matter what. Sometimes, I even find myself checking in on him randomly, without reason. I just have to see him to make certain he’s okay.

Tonight is one o’ those nights. I woke from a dead sleep, and the erotic dream I had before awakening followed me into consciousness. My cock full-on, pointing straight at midnight. Nae even a run and a workout can distract me. An hour after waking, I find myself in my car with no clue where I am headed until I pull to a stop outside the Society’s headquarters. It seems nothing can keep me from coming here, even when I have nae reason to be.

Unable to help myself, I make my way through the building to Tavish’s rooms. Music screams through the room, masking my entry. Well, unless he’s seen me on the surveillance cameras.

The kid really needs to lock the door iffn he’s going to listen to music so loud.

I stand in the shadows o’ the room, watching him. He’s pecking at the keyboard, but it’s not the usual fluid movements. It’s angry and frustrated, but it’s also slower than normal.

Jesus. I’ve become a stalker.

I scrub my hands over my face at the thought. I cannae deny the truth o’ it, though. I watch him whenever I have the chance. Simon, iffn he were still alive, would be crowing and dancing. Tavish was just the boy Simon and I were searching for before everything went to shit.

The dark brown waves quiver around his head as he stretches and yawns. Now I know why he seems off. He’s tired. As I scrutinize his appearance and surroundings, I notice the mess. There are empty energy drink cans, candy, and chip bags strewn about.

Rounding the desk so he can see me, I ask, “How long have you been up?”

He looks at me, his eyebrow hiked up his forehead. His eyes trail down my body, then retrace the path back to mine. He licks his lips, and my cock thuds in my pants, plumping up, but he says nothing. He just turns back to the scrolling lines o' code and text that I couldn’t explain if my life was on the line.

“Draven, I'm busy,” he says, dismissing me.

I lean over his monitors, my height making it an easy feat, and take his hands in mine. I press them against the desk, flattening them out.

“Look at me, Tavish,” I command.

My rough, gravelly voice widens his pupils. His Adam’s apple slips up and down as he tries to meet my gaze. I’m so fucking proud when his gaze gets to my mouth. Not wanting to push him any further, I let the lack o' eye contact slide.

“Ye need sleep. Yer never clumsy, and yet yer covered in spills and stains.”

Wiping my hand across the desk, I point out, “And there’s something sticky on the desk and under it, too.”

He nods, swallowing. He clears his throat a couple o' times and says, “Everly needs information. I can't stop until I get it to her.”

Everly’s been riding him hard. We all have. There’s a member o' the old order trying to restart their operations. It isn’t uncommon. All the old dogs have tried to relaunch their trafficking rings. We’ve shut every one o' them down, putting the perpetrators in the ground as we saved the victims from a plight worse than death.

“But…I’m so close,” he whines.

Another telltale sign he’s wiped. He’s a bratty little fuck, filled with the most delicious sass. Whining isn’t usually his quirk. Not unless he’s tired. The boy needs sleep. If he were mine, I’d whip his ass until it was red, then put him to bed.

But he’s nae mine. Nae really.

Only because I won’t go there.

I shake my head. I cannae keep going there. I’m too fucking old for him. Too old, too dirty, too kinky, too everything. He needs a kid his own age, nae someone pushing fucking forty who wants to make him eat, sleep, and do as he’s told.

Thirty-five. Barely.

Ignoring the asshole living in my skull, I let my gaze run over him. There are black circles under his eyes, and his eyes are bloodshot. His lips and skin are dry. His lips are chapped; they’re so dry.

“Tavish, ye need to find someone that can help ye down here. I know we have more than one techy in the society,” I push.

He growls, tossing a handful o' chips and then a handful o' candy into his mouth, chomping furiously. He’s as territorial.

Fuck! I pushed too hard.

He will hate that I know and that I witnessed this, but he can suck it. I fucked up. I pushed him too far, too fast.

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